


Compilation of Thramsay Ideas

by smallscreams



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alpha Ramsay Bolton, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Theon Greyjoy, Demons, Dimension Travel, Ghosts, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Theon Greyjoy, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Time Travel, Top ramsay bolton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:34:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29629164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallscreams/pseuds/smallscreams
Summary: These are a select few of fics that I no longer know how to continue and wanted to share. Fragmented andunfinishedstories with little summaries of the general idea I was going for.Chapter 1 - LovelyChapter 2 - Run Boy RunChapter 3 to 4 - SugarChapter 5 to 6 - Winter FellChapter 7 to 9 - ArrangedChapter 10 - He'd Stolen Him From His PlaceChapter 11 - Big Bad WolfChapter 12 - Cult StuffChapter 13 - Positive ReinforcementChapter 14 - Out Of Place
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Patrek Mallister/Theon Greyjoy, Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy, Robb Stark/Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26





	1. Lovely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics AU
> 
> Ramsay is hunting and Theon witnesses it.

Ramsay chased the crying and hysterical girl on foot. It was pathetically easy to keep up with the omegan maid that his girls would have already devoured her by now. The omega merely ran at a straight line deeper into the woods, stumbling and nearly tripping with a clumsiness barely tolerated in his household and something that would kill her now. Her back was an easy target as she fell down with a rough thud. Ramsay drew his bow string with an arrow and released it, watching as it hit its mark and down the Omega went (a pity— after she had just gotten up on her bare feet), an arrow pierced through the back of her head. He whistled loudly and the sounds of barking answered. In just a minute, his girls were here, salivating and circling the dead maid. With a signal that the bitches learned to follow, they began tearing apart the corpse.

Usually, Ramsay would let his girls eat his hunts alive, but this particular hunt was so disappointing it would do him no good in prolonging the inevitable. Ramsay waited and watched, making sure the hounds left nothing but torn clothes and bloody bones. It helped that he had not fed them their dinner yesterday so that they ate their still warm meal alarmingly fast. The sounds of snapping teeth and growling dwindled down to satisfied whines as his girls finished and sat around, waiting patiently for his orders. He trained them so well.

"C’mon girls, heel!" Ramsay ordered and started the walk back to the Dreadfort, his girls dutifully following him from behind.

He did not get that far ahead when his nose twitched and he caught a whiff of something sweet. So out of place in the woods, of the earth's natural smell and the dead servant. He walked to where he had smelt the sweet _omegan_ scent and stopped. It was gone. If he were any other person, he would have chalked it up as nothing and went on his way, but the disappearance of the smell was too quick. Almost like someone was suppressing it. Of course, it was obviously not the dead Omega behind him. Dead omegan smells were like carrion flowers. A bit ironic, really, in Ramsay’s honest opinion. No further than he strode forward through the brushes, to another, smaller clearing with wooden stumps that he heard a hitch of breath. Slowly turning around, he was met with wide eyes. A golden-haired boy who looked to be near his age. A _male_ omega.

There was a brief stare off between them before the omega decided to run. Ramsay immediately gave chase. An omega running only triggered the natural instinct for an alpha to pursue, which was a poor choice on the male omega’s part. Ramsay quickly caught him by the waist, wrapping his arms around him and practically tackling him. The omega screamed. He cut off the noise with his palm.

Ramsay did not really expect the vicious bite to his hand followed by an elbow to his gut. Abruptly, he released him, grunting in pain while the omega frantically scrambled up. Ramsay called his girls and the omega froze briefly, before he moved and did another unprecedented action: he took his fucking bow out of its sheathe and ran off with it.

Ramsay laughed in wonder and signaled his girls to catch the omega. Catch, but not kill. They went bounding off with frightening speed, he was proud to say he had them better trained than those Stark direwolves. Ramsay stood up, following the sounds of a body falling on the ground. He came up to the scene of the omega, backing against a tree with his bow still in his hand, surrounded by the girls.

The omega noticed his approach. "No, no, no, please— I will not say a word of what I had seen!"

"That’s the least of my concerns. Do you not really know who I am, little omega? Of what I’m capable of?"

The omega’s face lost what little of the color that was left on his sun kissed face, turning pale. He looked from Ramsay to the hounds with their bloody muzzles. Oddly, the omega’s eyes widened a bit then looked up at Ramsay.

"You’re Ramsay Snow," Goldie breathed out in realization.

Instead of fear, the omega sounded relieved. It irked Ramsay a bit.

"You’re shorter in stature than what people say. You’re the bastard of Lord Roose Bolton—" Ramsay clenched his fists, growling at the omega. The look of fear flickered back on his face. "A-And you can’t kill me!"

"Oh? What’s stopping me?" Ramsay glanced pointedly at his girls. They took a threatening step forward.

The omega whimpered, pressing himself further against the tree and trying to avoid the jaws of his girls.

"You can’t kill me. I am Theon Greyjoy, son of Balon Greyjoy and Ned Stark’s ward!"

"Sweetling, I know how to hide bodies," Ramsay wryly said. "Whatever numbers you have heard, I killed more than them. Nobody will find you for a long, long time and the people will at first think you’ve run back to the Iron Islands, with you already quite a bit far out from Winterfell."

"You wouldn’t... You would cause a war!"

_All the better then_ , Ramsay thought.

"I suppose so, but tell me why are you far from Winterfell in the first place. Don’t tell me—" Ramsay paused for effect. "You were actually planning on escaping back to your daddy’s side? If killing a traitor such as you myself is such a problem, why don’t I just escort you back to Lord Stark?"

"No! Please, please, I wasn’t—"

"I would prefer that you were on your knees and begging me for something else, but we can’t have all we want now, can we? Why don’t you be a good little omega for me and give me my bow back and I won’t let my hounds eat you."

"You sound like you will kill me either way! I will break your bloody bow if it has so much sentimental value!" Theon cried out in anger.

"Fine. If that's what you have decided. I’m sure with the right rumor to spread from the last person to have allegedly seen you and with the disposal of your body, a war would be the least of your worries." Ramsay whistled, bringing the attention of his girls. "My girls are still famished, after all."

The proud omega finally cried, Ramsay noted in amusement. His face was red, snot running and he was bawling like a babe, no longer hiding his fear. It was a beautiful sight.

Ramsay signaled his girls to back up and Theon was too busy wallowing in despair to notice. Ramsay grabbed the omega’s wrist, where his bow was held and then the pretty thing’s face, making him look at him.

"Or we could come to an agreement; if you claim to be important enough to start a war for..."

Theon’s cries turned to sniffles as he nodded eagerly, ocean eyes wide. "Yes, yes, anything— I’ll even make you lord of the Iron Islands! Please don’t kill me, alpha."

Fuck, it was unbelievable how that turned on Ramsay so much even without breaking the omega first. With a little adoration in those pretty eyes, it would be perfect.

Ramsay wiped a tear off the omega’s smooth, flushed cheeks with his thumb. "Shhh, I’m not going to kill you. Although you have to be careful with what you say, sweetling. _Do not_ make promises you can’t keep."

Theon seemed to be close to tears again, but the omega held it in, exhaling and inhaling to try to calm himself down.

"Good omega." Ramsay smiled at the omega’s mewling response. "I’ll even help you sneak back to Winterfell, isn’t that kind of me? But you have to agree to my favor first."

Theon nodded.

"It will not be a difficult task, lovely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't remember where I was going with this.


	2. Run Boy Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics AU
> 
> Theon is a ward of Dreadfort here. He's running in a dress Ramsay forced him to wear.

Theon tried to run as far as he could go, he really did, but the tight laces of his gown constricted his breathing and his bare feet stung with the many rocks and sticks that had punctured his feet. The laughter of men and the sound of hooves quickly motivated him to run again though.

Theon had seen the end too many times to many omegas and he did not want the same thing to happen to him. When a part of his gown got stuck on a branch, Theon frantically ripped almost half of his skirt, bunched it up and mindlessly threw it on top of a tree. It was a bit more freeing to run now.

When he stumbled into a bed of river, Theon could have wept in joy. He winced from the stinging cold as he waded closer to the deep part, but he nonetheless dunked his whole person in and curled up so he could sink down. Theon forced himself to relax and make his mind go blank as he concentrated on nothing and yet everything at the same time. He stayed underwater for 2 minutes, almost feeling like he was no longer cold. When Theon broke through the water's surface to take a breath, he felt like his face would freeze. He quickly swam to the other side and shook like a leaf as he hauled himself up back on ground.

The day was growing darker and Theon feared the creatures in the woods that would also start to hunt him. He wished he had a bow and arrow in his hands for it would at least give him some fighting chance. He shivered once again and wrung water from his coarse hair and from his ruined gown. He would be heavily weighed down now but there was no sound or sign of Ramsay and his boys. Walking to a sit against a tree, Theon was glad that it was late in Spring for the North, nearing Summer or else he would have really frozen to death.

The feel of the bark was uncomfortable and the ground was getting muddy as water dripped but Theon was so tired. He did not know where to go from here. He did not know what direction he was supposed to run towards Winterfell — even if he was an omega that the North seemed to value (more than the Iron Islands for sure), he was not sure of being welcomed. After all, he was a traitor's son and he was not the ward of Ned Stark, but of Roose Bolton. He didn't think his current appearance would be taken too kindly either.

Theon would prefer being frozen to death than whatever gruesome fate that would await him from Roose's bastard. Of course, he did not have to imagine for long when he heard the tell tale noise of hounds on the hunt.

Ramsay had released his dogs and Theon despaired on why he had believed the boy to follow on his word.

_"Run. If you start running now on the count of 1... I won't use my dogs, just keep running," Ramsay had said with an unkindly smile._

The moment he managed to finally get up, there was an arrow that embedded the tree behind him right beside his head. His heart stopped. A warning shot.

Theon did not stay long for Ramsay to finally show up through the brushes with his dogs barking from the edge of the river.

" _THEON_!"

Theon whimpered at the harsh yell of his name and spurred himself to run faster and out of sight. About to make a turn, Theon made a split decision and climbed up at the nearest, tallest tree that looked like it could handle his weight on it's branches. It was the right decision as moments later he heard the dogs.

He tried to calm his breathing — held his breath — and he feared the sound of his heart trying to jump out of his ribcage would be heard to Ramsay and his boys down below from where he was hiding up. It only took them a minute to get here as they probably crossed through the shallower part of the river and with the help of their trained horses.

"That little bitch... I didn't think he was actually underwater," Ramsay muttered.

"Like a fish," Alyn stated.

"No, like one of those half-human, half-fish people," Damon said.

"A siren?"

"I think it’s a mermaiden though Greyjoy certainly isn't no maiden."

Ramsay turned to glare at them. "Whatever the fuck he is, find him! He couldn't have gotten that far."

But because the gods did not favor Theon, one of Ramsay's dogs, Helicent, went sniffing to the tree he was in and began barking at it. The other dogs joined in as they spotted him.

Ramsay looked up and Theon swore if he was not going to die from his blades, then he was going to die from the stupid move he was about to do.

He swung off the thick branch and quickly dropped down to the horse right below him, startling it into action, and bodily shoved Skinner off his saddle in the chaos and panicked shouts. Theon replaced his spot, holding on to the reins as the horse blindly galloped away from the forest clearing and from the dogs that suddenly started pursuing it.

He did not get far.

Theon gasped when the horse fell, making a pained neigh, and the breath was knocked out of his lungs when he hit the ground on his back. The horse was shot down by arrows, falling sideways in front of Theon. He was about to run again, but immediately backed himself against a tree from the growling dogs that were suddenly surrounding him.

He looked up at the sound of his name. Ramsay dismounted from Blood and clapped slowly with a wide smile on his crazy handsome face.

"Impressive! You've managed to last longer than any of my other hunts, Lovely Theon!" Ramsay motioned his dogs away from Theon and approached closer. "What an excellent performance you've put on! I didn't think you’d get that far..."

Theon was frozen, his limbs locked. Ramsay’s smile faded as he wrapped a hand around his throat, pinning him against the tree.

"But where did you think you were running off to like that?"

“I-I only did as you asked, m-my Lord—" Theon stopped, scared of being choked, when the hand around his throat tightened.

"Oh? It seemed like you were intent on running away." Ramsay briefly glared down at him before his face changed again. "Darling, you would have died if you stayed in these woods when night came. Look at you. You're shivering," he said with fake concern.

"Please don’t kill me, my Lord," Theon said in a rush, trying not to cry.

"Kill you? Now why would I do that?" Ramsay released him from his hold. "Get on your knees."

Theon shook as Ramsay unlaced his breeches and took out his hard cock that he’d tried to ignore when it was pressing against his thigh.

"Suck."

Whimpering, Theon did as commanded. Hesitantly and slowly trying to place it inside his mouth, Ramsay suddenly thrust his full length in, hitting the back of his throat. His eyes became watery, mouth straining wide and his teeth hurt while also trying not to gag.

Still inexperienced, Theon was mostly focused on not choking while Ramsay rocked his cock in and out. He tried to angle his head to take it better and he somewhat regretted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, daily life of Omega Theon living in the Dreadfort with Alpha Ramsay.


	3. Sugar Ch 1: Higher Than The Ceiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern Setting AU
> 
> Ramsay and Theon are boyfriends.

“Hi. Hey. _Fuck_ – Ah shit—” Ramsay grunted and grabbed a fistful of Theon’s hair, jerking his head back so that he’d stop. “Sorry about that. I stubbed my toe. Are you wondering about Theon?” At saying the name, the said boy made a muffled sound around his cock and he glanced down to see big, glassy eyes staring up at him.

It was a pretty sight.

“ _Yeah, is he still at your house? It's almost getting late and my mom's been asking_.”

“He's still at my house. Don't worry, man. I’ll drive him back,” Ramsay answered, loosening his hold on Theon’s silky golden brown curls and allowed the boy to resume bobbing his head up and down.

“ _He is? What’s he doing? He never responded to my calls, does he have it on silent? Why are you the one answering_ —”

“Kay, bye.”

“ _Wait_ —”

Ramsay grinned and put Theon’s phone down. Theon already seemed to have forgotten about Stark’s call and was focused on giving him the best goddamn blowjob ever. For a moment, he let him go at his own pace, just resting his hand on Theon’s hair and admiring him.

After a while, he grabbed hold of Theon’s head with both hands and started thrusting harshly, making the teen choke. A few more thrusts into that warm mouth and he was coming down Theon’s throat. With teary aqua eyes, Theon breathed heavily with his nose as he tried swallowing it all, throat convulsing nicely around his cock.

Ramsay pulled out and Theon wiped some of the come that dripped out his mouth, his face flushed and lips swollen red.

“You're definitely improving,” Ramsay praised, petting Theon’s head.

“I-I am?” Theon stared up at him with hopeful eyes.

Such a cute puppy he got. Ramsay smiled.

* * *

Ramsay wrapped an arm around Theon’s waist, drawing the pretty Ironborn closer as they made out in the boy's restroom. They were capitalizing on the technically free period they were given for PE because of some event or some shit taking place inside the gym that the teachers were preparing for. They opted to let the students relax because it was also raining hard outside.

Theon had his palms resting on his chest as Ramsay licked inside the boy's sweet mouth. Everything about Theon was so sickeningly sweet, his face, his lips, his eyes — he couldn't get enough.

The golden brown-haired boy was probably the only one that had gotten this far into a relationship with him.

Ramsay was leaning all his weight down on Theon and against the porcelain sink, encircling Theon in his arms while he felt a leg hook around his knee. They weren't even rubbing against each other and Ramsay swore he could come just off of kissing, ravaging those stupidly red lips of Theon’s while the boy moaned quietly.

The bathroom door opened suddenly and Theon startled, quickly pushing him away that Ramsay hadn't had time to react and turned as if he was just about to wash his hands. The guy who entered didn’t acknowledge their presence, looking down at his phone when he walked in, going into one of the three blue stalls for a piss.

Ramsay was angry at being pushed away and when Theon turned off the taps, he dragged him outside by his wrist.

“What the hell, Theon? Don’t push me like that.”

Theon winced. “I’m sorry. I panicked.”

Ramsay narrowed his eyes. “What? Are you embarrassed to be with me?”

“T-That's not it. We could get in trouble for doing stuff like that in school ya know?”

“Ha? You're concerned about that?” Ramsay snorted in disbelief. “ _You_ of all people?”

“I’ve never done anything... at school,” Theon said with a frown, looking all sad and eyes wide. Like he wanted Ramsay to believe him. “Everybody thinks I do that kind of stuff in school, but I don't. I don’t like being in trouble, but anyone sees me do anything and they spread it as something else.”

He was both so adorable and punchable, but Ramsay found truth in his words. Theon learned to never lie to him. In fact, Ramsay was happy that he was apparently the only exception to the “no fucking in school” rule — of course, it still irked him to think that Theon had been intimate with other people before he came into the picture.

“Still, I don't want you to do that again. You don't want me to be angry, do you?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“I also understand that you're scared, but it's 2020 and fuck whatever your father or what anyone else thinks.”

“Yeah, but...”

Ramsay made Theon look at him when he tried averting his eyes to the ground.

“I won’t force you, but I don’t think I can keep this up for too long.”

Theon’s lips quivered.

“Let’s go back,” Ramsay said, letting go of Theon and walking ahead.

Gods, that was one thing that he really wanted to train out of Theon.

* * *

“You hang out with Ramsay a lot, right— Is... isn’t he a bit... weird?”

Theon looked up from the classwork, frowning at his classmate. He tried to recall her name, but couldn’t and internally gave up, but she was often his conversation partner in his biology class.

“What?”

“No. Never mind.”

“You said something about Ramsay?”

She shook her head and her curls shook along with the movement. “Just wanted to say your friend’s a little weird.”

Theon wasn't sure if he should be offended or not, on behalf of Ramsay, but he shared the same opinion.

Mostly, Theon was curious. “Why do you think so?”

“No offense, dude, but I’ve heard some shit about him,” she said. “He got expelled from Weepings ‘cause he attacked the principal apparently.”

Oh, Theon had heard of that story. He snorted. “Yeah. With a broken broomstick. I heard the high school principal of Weepings was an ass sooo... Nobody felt really sorry for her. Ramsay already gets a lot of shit for that from our own school staff.”

His classmate was in a thoughtful silence, staring down at his incoherent paper that he was planning on turning in.

“...dogs.”

“Dolls? Huh?”

“I heard he attacked the principal using his dogs — well, there's a lot of other versions but the dogs one sounds more believable.”

_Ramsay's dogs?_ They were the sweetest creatures. “His dogs? Girl, are you crazy? The Weepings Principal herself said ‘with a broomstick.’ And they used those electrical heart-lie detectors too.”

“I don't feel sorry for the principal but the dog version seems more what happened. I have a friend who lives a few blocks away from him and he's got hunting dogs so they might be trained for some special commands.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen them. I visit his house a lot,” Theon said. He felt like he really needed to clear Ramsay's name. “I wouldn't blame him for siccing his dogs on the principal.”

“No, no. I don't care about the shitty principal. Your friend just gives me weird vibes. Also, because he said some not-so-nice things to me yesterday.”

Theon frowned. “Why didn't you say that first? What the hell?”

“Just wanted to warn you, dude. He doesn't seem so nice.”

“He's rude as fuck, that's for sure. He's no serial killer, thankfully.”

His table partner shrugged. “All right, if you say so. Low-key you're a bit mean. You two are a match made in heaven — or hell, I guess.”

Theon’s mouth stopped, half formed sentence gone, thoughts quickly running. He opted for a sarcastic sounding laugh.

When the bell signaling lunch rang, he turned in his work and was the second person out the door.

He saw Ramsay walking towards him from down the left hall, giving him a little wave that he returned.

“Hey,” Ramsay greeted when he was near.

Theon was quite confused. “How did you— Isn't your 4th period class on the other end of the campus?”

Ramsay smiled. “I kinda got kicked out of my class, so I was mostly wandering around ‘till it was lunch to pick you up.”

“Kicked out? What’d you get kicked out for?”

“For talking back,” Ramsay answered, then casually placed his arm around his waist, urging him forward to their usual haunt.

Theon momentarily tensed, but allowed it while surreptitiously looking around the hallway. His classmate (he couldn't remember her name for the life of him) met his eyes and she gave him an unreadable look before they turned the corner.

* * *

“Hey, Ramsay!”

Ramsay’s smile and hand fell, trying to hide his growing annoyance. He looked up to see Damon approaching him in the parking lot with his other friends, Alyn and Luton, in tow.

“Yeah? What now?”

“You said you’d drive us to McDonald’s. Luton’s got money,” Damon said. He paused, noticing Theon who was standing beside him. “Ah. Is that your new thing?”

“I'm not a thing.” Theon glared up at the tall blond boy.

Damon had a thoughtful look on his face as he stared at Theon, as if he had a sudden revelation. “Hmm. I think I can see the appeal.”

“Be nice, Damon,” Ramsay said, narrowing his eyes at the boy in warning.

Theon turned to him then, pointedly ignoring Damon. “But what about...?”

Internally sighing, he couldn't believe his friends’ timing on using his favor. Ah well.

“Tomorrow, baby,” Ramsay decided. “McDonald's still sound good for you or nah?”

“...Fine.”

“Do we even have enough time to make it back?” Alyn wondered.

“It's close by. Lunch is just starting,” Ramsay pointed out.

  
  


The answer was ‘no’ because Ramsay rather enjoyed scaring Theon as he drove a _little_ faster than allowed by law through the neighbourhood streets. He was purposely taking the longest route that happened to be pretty empty.

Damon was amused by it, encouraging him; meanwhile, Luton was grabbing onto the handle above him, holding on for dear life and Alyn seemed paler than normal.

Theon on the other hand kept telling him to stop with a panicked voice, perilously close to tears and frantically looking at him then to the car door.

What was he going to do — jump out the fucking car? His boy was crazy (it was locked either way, no jumping out of his car).

Of course, they made it alive because Ramsay was a good driver and he’d slowed down to a normal speed when they reached a four way road. Theon had no faith in him. Another thing that he wanted to be amended.

  
  


Ramsay was doing his best in calming down Theon. His friends were still inside the car so that made things a bit awkward as they still weren't used to his ‘fake’ act.

  
  


They were outside in the McDonald’s parking lot while Luton and Theon ordered in person at the counter.

“So...” Damon began, “when are we... uh, y’know.” He gestured vaguely at Theon’s direction.

He was visible through the glass window, glancing down at his phone for the third time.

“No,” Ramsay said simply.

“No?”

(Ramsay firmly makes it known to the boys that Theon is very off-limits and they're disappointed.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not finished, but I made a second chapter.
> 
> I don't plan when I write... I just be writing anything that comes into mind and then later try to organize it.
> 
> That's a common theme for my unfinished chaptered fics.


	4. Sugar Ch 2: How You Get So Fly?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 of Sugar. Not even as long as first chapter.
> 
> Theon is planning to introduce his boyfriend to the Starks.

“Who’s my pretty boy?”

Theon turned a little pink, averting his eyes briefly from Ramsay's smiling gaze.

“You should wear my clothes often. You look cute in them,” Ramsay continued, watching in mild amusement as Theon turned redder.

Clearly, he wasn't used to compliments.

(Ramsay exploiting Theon's praise kink.)

* * *

Theon was wearing the same hoodie as him although it was a little bit bigger for the Ironborn. They were meant to stand by each other for the designs to connect.

Ramsay walked his boyfriend to the Stark's home. He already knew the way, but Theon didn't seem to be aware of it, too busy telling him that he was nervous.

“—but don't worry, Ramsay. They’ll definitely like you.”

“Do they know?”

Theon looked at him in guilt, before weakly laughing. “I still haven't... I’ll hint it enough times and they’ll probably... know. I don't think they're as bad as my father. Robb's definitely an ally, though.”

(Ramsay trying to get their relationship out.)

* * *

“Hey, man. I’m Ramsay,” Ramsay introduced himself with a smile that the auburn-haired boy returned, albeit strained.

“I’m Robb.”

Theon seemed to have found amusement, remaining oblivious. “You two sound like old men. Greeting each other so obnoxiously _manly_.”

Ramsay laughed. Robb did too. They both looked at Theon.

Theon looked at Ramsay, lightly tugging his hand. “Come on, let's go to my room.”

Over Theon’s head, Robb frowned at him. Ramsay's smile only grew wider.

“Hold on, guys. Do you want to eat anything?”

(Robb cockblocks.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the story's name and chapter titles are familiar to you, then you've probably heard of the song "Suga Suga" by Baby Bash.


	5. Winter Fell Ch 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demons/Ghosts AU
> 
> Theon accidentally kills Ramsay.

He didn't mean that to happen. It happened because — he _wasn't_ — his body had moved on its own accord. His mind wasn't catching up fast enough.

Theon’s hands trembled terribly as he weakly tried to check for some kind of pulse, anywhere and everywhere. The body was still warm although it was quickly losing that.

_He’s not fucking breathing and he doesn't have a pulse, you stupid bitch!_

Theon saw a puddle of red forming around Ramsay's head and bit back a cry.

_OH GODS!_

He didn't mean to, he didn't mean to, he didn't—

The dent was noticeable on the car’s hood ( _Ramsay's car_ ) and Ramsay was probably dead. Theon choked back a sob. He had just been so scared. Ramsay had been so angry, he got out and lit a cigarette, while Theon quietly watched from inside and then something was coming towards him down the road in front — it was running weird and Ramsay didn't notice it because he was looking to the woods, with his phone playing the voice message his co-worker sent him.

_What have I done? WhathaveIdonewhathaveIdone—_

Theon wailed, futilely trying to get a response from his boyfriend and trying to stop the bleeding wherever it was coming from. He rested Ramsay's head on his lap, blood soaking his jeans. Taking out his phone, Theon was about to call 911 with his slipping fingers before quickly deciding against it. The road he was in was empty with only the tall trees surrounding him, no other car had passed by in a long time. It would be blindingly obvious who was the culprit in this scene.

Who would even believe him if he said some horrendous thing had been coming towards them at an alarming rate?

Maybe Theon had just imagined it in the first place, going crazy from the creepiness of the area they had to pass through.

He had to get Ramsay's body into the car. Theon was not as strong as he used to be, but he managed to lift Ramsay's upper torso and drag him to the backseat. Ramsay's phone was still playing the message and Theon turned it off, then picked up the pack of cigarettes.

Frantically starting the car, he locked the doors and adjusted the seat. He turned the headlights up to full brightness, which was definitely not legal, but no one else was here — gods, he really needed to get out of this area.

He was still 20 minutes away from the town, but it would take him longer because of the car’s state which no one else should see. Definitely not with Ramsay’s body in the back.

* * *

Theon woke up, feeling sick to the stomach. He was surprised he had even managed to fall asleep at all. He remembered what he had done last night. Running to the toilet, Theon threw up. After flushing, he washed his face and his hands, his whole body shaking.

It was early in the morning, the sky still dark and the house unnaturally quiet.

His breathing was a little too loud. While attempting to not have another breakdown, Theon stopped what he was doing when he noticed a door opening in the mirror’s reflection. His heart stopped briefly.

_Oh gods, is this the part where he would die to the horrible monster he had seen? Or what if it was Roose Bolton? He always did random, unannounced visits._

Theon didn't know what to do, so he had painstakingly dragged Ramsay’s heavy body to the weird freezer at the back his boyfriend kept. If it was Ramsay's dad... Maybe Mr. Bolton would immediately know? He always seemed to know things

Theon exited the bedroom, feeling nervous at what he would see and preparing for the worst, before stopping abruptly in his tracks.

“My own freezer. Huh. That's fucking poetic I guess,” Ramsay said.

A Ramsay who was standing in the middle of the room, blood and all, but his skin was paler. Pale as a corpse. Which he _was_. He was dead, wasn't he?

There were two plausible reasons: he had actually gone crazy or the supernatural was actually real. Either way, his heart was surely going to burst out of his ribcage. The bloody Ramsay was talking to him, but he couldn't really hear.

“Too bad I’m back.”

Theon wanted to cry and apologize again, beg for mercy or try to get away from what was probably some kind of supernatural being out for his blood for some reason. Do all three at once probably. Instead, he passed out from the sheer shock and fear.

* * *

He woke up the second time, immediately sitting up after processing what he had seen. As if on cue, Ramsay came out of the bathroom, toweling his face. He was wearing his casual clothes now and the blood was gone. He looked normal, walking around like nothing was wrong. Theon wondered if he had merely dreamt everything.

That would certainly explain a lot of things.

He stared for a while, following Ramsay’s movements and unsure of what to say — if he should say anything. His dream had felt so real.

Ramsay put the towel down. Theon’s throat suddenly closed up as he saw the redness of it.

“Oh, you’re finally awake,” Ramsay acknowledged, glancing at him.

Theon gulped. “I... You weren't breathing.”

“You killed me. Ran me over with my damn car,” Ramsay said coldly. “Been planning that for long, did you?”

“H-How are you...”

“Disappointed?”

“I didn't — I didn't mean to!” Theon cried, his vision blurry.

“Are you seriously crying?” Ramsay frowned and muttered to himself, “I shouldn't have left the keys in the engine.”

(Theon dealing with the fact that the supernatural are a thing. He explains what he had seen to Ramsay that night he accidentally killed him and Ramsay says the demonic thing he saw was basically a hitman. Someone is trying to kill Theon.)


	6. Winter Fell Ch 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 of Winter Fell
> 
> Bring your boyfriend to work day.

“Ramsay... Is this really okay? Just sitting here?” Theon asked, fiddling nervously with his sweater.

“You can just sit there and look pretty. There's no rule against bringing my boyfriend to my work. Hell, there's a bring your child to work day isn't there?”

“I’m not a kid though.”

“Whatever you say, sweetling." Ramsay chuckled in amusement. "Same difference. Plus, my father owns this shit so I can get away with a lot of things.”

“Of course.”

“But it would be nice if you helped around my office. Act like it's an internship.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Sort those files alphabetically. I’m sure you can do that.”

“Am I allowed to even handle these important looking documents?”

“What do you plan on doing with the information? Nothing. So, it doesn't matter. Do you even understand half of what anything is saying on that paper, sweetling?”

“...No.”

“So just focus on the names at the top left corner my slow boy.”

* * *

“Ramsay, do you know—”

“Bolton—”

Theon was startled into silence, looking up in fear.

“...Theon?”

Oh gods. It was Robb fucking Stark. He forgot the boy — no, man — worked together with Ramsay. Maybe a demon thing would be better than facing his once-best friend.

Theon didn't know what to say. He’d expected Ramsay when the door opened, but instead it was the person he preferred not to have an encounter with (frankly, the demon thing was only second). Anyone who wasn't Ramsay, mostly.

“What are you doing? Do you work here? Why are you at Bolton's desk?”

“I'm... Ramsay. Interning. Sorta...”

“You look very unprofessional,” Robb said.

Theon looked down back at the papers, ignoring the comment. “Uhm, Ramsay told me to sort these documents— Of course, they're still confidential and Ramsay's quite diligent with making sure to cover everything up except for the names.

He also told me that if anyone comes in for anything that he's currently dealing with Mr. Bolton— his father. I’m merely the sorter, an assistant if you will. But Ramsay will probably return shortly at this time. S-So, he suggests to wait or just place down any possible work orders right here.”

Theon pointed to the empty, black tray and then briefly made eye contact with Robb before averting them.

“I’ll... wait here. If that's okay.”

“Yes, that's one of the options. I’ll continue with my task now.”

The silence was awkward and Theon tried not to freeze up at the intense feeling of being watched. Was Robb really going to wait? He wanted Ramsay back already.

It was a minute later that Ramsay opened the door rather aggressively and Theon could've wept in relief. He couldn't stand the awkwardness and Robb’s unabashed staring any longer.

* * *

“Hey, Theon!”

Theon curled in on himself a little bit, hunching his shoulders and walking faster as if Robb wouldn't see him.

“Theon!”

Theon flinched almost violently when a hand grabbed his shoulder.

Only Ramsay was allowed to touch him. Anyone else had to get permission. Theon wondered if Robb was crazy before remembering the auburn haired man didn't know about the set of rules Ramsay made.

He was supposed to act normal.

_Normal?_ How was he to do that? He’d already fucked up at the office.

“Theon,” Robb said slowly as if it was a painful thing to do. “I've not seen you for years but you don't even have anything to say?”

What more did the man want? He already said all he wanted to, long ago. Tried to make up for it. Everything he did was never enough.

“I'm sorry...”

Robb abruptly grabbed him firmly with both hands on his shoulders and made Theon face him.

“What happened to you? Why won't you meet my eyes?”

“I'm sorry—”

“Stop saying sorry.”

Theon didn't know what to do. What was he supposed to do??? He was getting a little overwhelmed. He just wanted Ramsay.

“I’m so— I-I have to go. Ramsay's waiting for me.”

“Ramsay? Are you... Is he your boyfriend?”

“Y-Yes.”

“ _Him_?” Robb asked in disbelief.

“Ramsay is wonderful to me.”

“You disappear for years and you're with Ramsay Bolton? Theon, you didn't even stay in contact and not even your family knew where you were at. All this time you’ve been with Bolton?”

(Theon sees the demon thing again and it's like being a creepy shit, hiding menacingly behind the pillars. The demon thing makes a weird noise and Theon freaks out, which also freaks out Robb, who can't even see what's wrong. Ramsay saves the day and they leave the parking lot with Ramsay warning Robb to be careful under Theon's request, but also threatening him.)

* * *

“Ramsay, wait... wait for me,” Theon said, hurriedly putting on his raincoat.

“You look ridiculous,” Ramsay commented in amusement.

Theon tried not to wilt, but it was hard to not be self-conscious. He was so out of place and he did indeed look utterly ridiculous compared to the other people around them. Half of them weren't even wearing anything to protect themselves from the rain. Ramsay included.

He didn't even know why he had gotten out of the car in the first place when Ramsay just said he could stay in.

“Relax.” Ramsay said, leading Theon inside the building that looked like a restaurant. “No one will do anything to you.”

(Supernatural meeting/hangout where Ramsay tries to figure out who put a hit on Theon.)


	7. Arranged Ch 1: Naturalisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics AU
> 
> Ramsay has been legitimized and there's an arranged marriage.
> 
> This one is my smut practice.
> 
> Was inspired by sylvanWhisper's and HappyDagger's ABO and orphaned works of ABO Thramsay.

'I'm to be married off to an unknown alpha that I’ve never met and go once again to another strange, new land. A bastard, too.’

Jon merely looked at him with something akin to pity. Theon frowned slightly and turned his head away from him. He didn't even get any sympathy (not that he expected much from an alpha either way).

‘I’ve only come to say my farewells...’ Theon paused and quietly said, ‘To my good companion, although unwillingly. I’ll miss your annoying presence.’

Jon’s expression turned to surprise, before he regarded him with an unreadable face. ‘I won't pretend to miss you and your constant teasing, but the castle will be strange without you.’

Theon smiled and ruffled Jon’s curls as if he was but still a small child. ‘Always so truthful.’ Theon patted his cheek playfully (the lack of baby fat always surprised him), which made Jon grunt in annoyance. ‘But don't worry, I won't let you forget how blessed you were for having been in my presence. I’ll send you ravens.’

‘I’d rather hope not,’ mumbled Jon.

‘Why of course! I will do my best to remind you.’

Jon rolled his eyes.

Theon left the boy with a cheeky grin. His face immediately fell the moment he turned his back and walked down the mostly empty corridors to his room. He took in Winterfell as he passed by archways and windows. He would soon leave this place and go farther north, colder and even harsher.

There was some irony there.

Theon looked down at the hustle and bustle of activity happening below. He tried to imagine what it would be like at the Bolton's. He had heard rumours about the Dreadfort and the people in it. None of them were decidedly good stories. Roose Bolton's bastard, for one, had a reputation for something that Theon hoped wasn't true, but gossips and rumours had some grain of truth in them. Especially if they generally centered on one thing everyone could agree on, and it was that Ramsay Bolton was a cruel madman... and that he had a proclivity for hunting down unusual game.

Theon was set to be married to an alpha of Balon Greyjoy’s choosing. He was quite bitter about it. Why did his father suddenly seem to have remembered his existence? Unsurprisingly, out of all the other available alphas, Balon chose the worst one (he suspected it was also because of the less than ideal history between House Bolton and House Stark — Lady Stark suspected as much, too).

He was sent to the North, forcefully taken out of his mother's arms as “hostage” when it wasn't supposed to be him (a mere omega son to the more promising alpha daughter) and now this? What person would still have the gall to make demands like that to their would-be executioner and try to dictate his life after the shit they tried to pull?

As if the threat of a noose around his neck wasn't enough.

* * *

Theon packed everything he could take with him to his new home (they weren’t a lot), which were mostly his garments, and hid the ones he couldn't (like his journals) in little nooks and crannies. He didn't want any of the new Winterfell servants to throw them all away as if he had never been here. Theon startled at the knock on his door, hurriedly sliding pieces of parchment into a loose wooden board.

It couldn't already be time would it?

Theon opened the door and instead of Ned Stark, it was little Rickon with the future Lord of Winterfell carrying him from the hip.

‘Hullo, I heard you were about to leave,’ said Robb awkwardly, ‘Rickon wanted to see you off.’

Theon was doubtful of that as he was sure Rickon didn't even know what was happening, nor would the small child remember him completely, but let them in nonetheless.

Rickon stretched his arms out to Theon.

At least children seemed to be the only one who truly wanted Theon, if nothing more than him being an omega.

Theon took Rickon off Robb's arms and smiled at the redhead child’s noise of delight. In fact, Theon could see some merit to being nothing more than a baby maker and having children that would see him as their whole world, like how the Stark children seemed to see Lady Stark as.

‘Gods...’

Theon looked up at Robb, after a moment of playing with Rickon.

'You're marrying Ramsay Bolton...’ muttered Robb, ‘Be careful of him. I’ve heard many unsavory rumours about him.’

‘Oh, I’m sure it's nothing I haven't heard before,’ said Theon nonchalantly, ‘He won't be able to flay me alive even if the man wanted to. What good will it do him to reveal that he has been disregarding the laws set by your father?’

‘Theon, I hear he rapes _and_ kills omegas,’ stressed Robb, ‘Usually in that order.’

‘Whom were all common whores— Even if I'm an omega, which is naturally supposed to mean I'm a whore, I'm a _highborn_ whore,’ said Theon, mustering as much cheeriness as he could. At Robb's dismayed face, Theon sighed. ‘You needn't worry so much. I'm the thing that further legitimizes Ramsay Bolton as a naturalized son, he wouldn't dare try to harm me... much, because I hear he places great value in his new status granted by the king.’

They were silent for a while and Robb surreptitiously looked around his room, which was mostly empty now. It looked impersonal and bare as it had been when Theon first came here.

'You're really leaving...’ Robb sounded sad at the thought of his departure.

Theon was pleasantly surprised. Honestly, this was the most he had ever talked with Robb, not including his random babbling he constantly bombarded Theon with when he was much younger, when he wasn't four and ten, while dragging him everywhere by the hand, being his small tour guide.

Strangely, Robb had begun to grow distant from him as he grew older. Theon had reason to believe it was Lady Stark's doing. The amount of times he heard the Lady of Winterfell warn her children to not come close to the “sea witch,” “siren,” “pirate...” Her descriptions varied from time to time. Personally, Theon didn't really mind. It made him feel more fearsome than he actually was and ironically, it only did the opposite of the intended effect Lady Stark wanted.

He still remembered the time Sansa demanded he teach her how to use her voice to capture the attention of a boy she fancied similar to his “siren powers” (and Theon did try to teach her how to sing, but the girl was quite intent on shattering every glass in vicinity). Meanwhile, Arya wanted to know how to _drown_ man (such a violent child).

Theon was brought out of his reminiscing when there was another knock, before the door opened. Theon handed Rickon back to Robb, with some minor protest from the small child, and got his stuff as Lord Stark stood from the doorway.

'Are you ready?’ asked Lord Stark, then turned to address his son with a look. ‘Robb, what were you doing here with Rickon?’

Theon supposed it wasn’t entirely appropriate for an unrelated and unmated alpha to be with an omega in the omega’s room.

‘Rickon and I were just saying our farewells to Theon,’ said Robb, holding his sleepy little brother up unconvincingly.

‘You can bid him farewell at the gates.’

* * *

There was a small entourage of betas waiting for Theon to escort him to the Dreadfort. Some of the men were sent by Lord Bolton and noticeable by the large “X” on their armour. When Theon looked closer, the red shape was actually a skinless man upside down. It was disturbingly detailed. Theon averted his eyes from it and stared at something else that made him less nervous, which were the reins in his hands of the horse he was on. Though it was largely unneeded as his horse was tethered to Lord Stark's own personal steed.

He took one last look at Winterfell, the place he considered as a sort-of home for seven, long winters. He waved goodbye at some of the omega servants gathered near the stalls that he knew, who were the ones who basically raised him; Robb, Rickon and Jon, who were watching from a distance, and Maester Luwin.

Sansa, Arya and Bran were probably with their mother.

The gates were slowly closed as they started down the path. Theon kept looking until they were far enough and the gates were fully closed.

It seemed like they only cared enough to see him off, but not attend his wedding ceremony, Theon bitterly thought.

  
  


Theon grew increasingly nervous the closer they were nearing Dreadfort and his mind ran wild on the many possible ways he could be murdered by his betrothed. Really, all Ramsay Bolton would need of him was to give him a trueborn alpha and then Theon would be probably killed off after his use was over. Chances would be that his father wouldn't even give two shits about him and even the speed of the news’s arrival to Pyke wouldn't concern him enough to personally handle his ashes.

Theon swallowed down his bile and tried to steel himself as the ominous fortress that was the Dreadfort came into view.

... _Drowned God_. He was supposed to live there now?

When they reached the gates, two guards opened them while another blew a horn to announce their presence. Their horses trotted into the middle of the courtyard. The outside looked hostile and barren, inside was only slightly better. The people were not much to look at either and fit in with the whole inhospitable approach that the Dreadfort seemed to be going for. He could understand why it was called the “Dreadfort.” Emphasis on the word _dread_ because Theon wasn't certainly feeling any awe, only fear.

He was assisted down his horse by one of the men in his entourage and Theon would normally hate that — he didn't want to be seen as some helpless omega (he was still Ironborn!) — but currently he was feeling a bit too faint and he wasn't entirely confident he could've gotten down gracefully to the ground.

Roose Bolton came and greeted them. Theon internally hit himself for not realising who he was for a brief moment because he had not been entirely expecting such a fit elderly man to be Lord Bolton. He was sort of expecting something else — After all, he was Ramsay Bolton's sire and the Starks’ who have had the pleasure of meeting him painted a monstrous, sickly picture in his mind about the man.

‘Welcome, my lords, to the Dreadfort,’ said Lord Bolton softly, but his voice held authority and went across the courtyard. ‘Lord Eddard Stark, welcome.’

‘Pleasure,’ answered Lord Stark, but his face looked like one who had taken a bite of something sour.

Lord Bolton didn’t acknowledge it and turned to Theon. ‘Ah, you must the famed “Pearl of the Sea,” Lord Theon. Pleasure to meet you, my future son-in-law.’

Theon blinked dumbly. The huh-of-the-what now?

He flushed slightly when Lord Bolton still awaited an answer and hastily said, ‘Oh, um, I'm not quite sure I know what you speak of, but thank you, my lord.’

‘It seems you're unaware, but you’ve earned quite the reputation for your beauty and truly you give merit to that title.’

Theon was flattered and glad that people seemed to have acknowledged his beauty, but mostly he was confused. When did this whole thing even start — Ah, you know what? Theon would be rather fine in his ignorance. It didn't help that at the corner of his eyes, Lord Stark also seemed bewildered by that information.

‘But my... son here is quite anxious to finally talk to his bridegroom.’

Theon registered that there was another person who just showed up. His eyes briefly widened and he stared at the young man before him. Of course, if Roose Bolton _looked like that_ then it would be understandable if his son **_also_** _looked like that_.

_Oh_. Theon now knew why some omegas were willing to risk laying with this particular alpha.

‘My lord.’ Ramsay smiled knowingly, took Theon’s gloved hand and kissed his knuckles. ‘It is good to finally see you.’

With all the stories about him, Theon had somewhat expected a horrendous-looking behemoth who had long canines, two rows of sharp teeth and a twisted face — his imagination was quite overactive. Instead, he was just roughly the same height as him with Robb's robust build, a surprisingly pleasant voice and an almost friendly-looking countenance. Almost. He wasn't really putting much effort into hiding how he looked at Theon like one would look at a meal. Another surprising thing was how _young_ he looked. He didn't look much older than him than he had initially been led to believe. Theon even suspected that he was only a few years older than Robb and Jon.

‘You must be tired from your trip. Come, I will show you to your chambers.’ Ramsay held out an arm to Theon, who took it after looking to Lord Stark for reassurance. ‘Your stuff, of course, will be sent later to the room.’

Theon felt a bit of relief that his future husband was not so bad-looking. At least they would make beautiful children, or at least one child—

Before he would be inevitably killed.

‘Are you okay, my lord? You're looking a bit pale,’ asked Ramsay with some measure of concern in his voice.

Theon only smiled and nodded in response, but did not show teeth. He was self-conscious with the gap in his front teeth.

* * *

Everything in the Dreadfort seemed designed to intimidate and even when it was a home for the Boltons, the number of servants appeared less than what Theon expected. They were like translucent ghosts that he would only notice sometimes as Ramsay led him through the dark stone halls and they blended in with the environment, their clothes all coordinating with the doom and gloom feel. It felt like he was entering some kind of evil lair.

And that he was the sacrificial offering.

Unwittingly, Theon tightened his grip on Ramsay's arm, trying to gain some confidence as the halls became darker and lowly illuminated by candlelight — Oh God, were they real skeleton hands?

Theon just wanted to go back to Winterfell.

‘Here we are, my lord,’ announced Ramsay loudly, breaking Theon out of his panicked thoughts. ‘This will be your chambers. Would you like some help in undressing?’

Theon gawped. ‘Huh? I-I—’

‘Have no worries. It was just a joke.’ Ramsay smirked. ‘That’ll happen soon after on our wedding night.’

Theon did not know how to respond to that and the growing warmth of his face was obvious as the room was cold.

‘Join us later in the welcoming feast. A servant will come to remind you,’ said Ramsay and he took Theon’s hand again, but this time he took off his glove and kissed the tips of his fingers then regarded Theon with the eyes of a predator. ‘You are truly lovely. I can not wait for our union.’

Theon was sure he would have combusted from how awfully warm the room suddenly was, even though the fireplace in the room had no fire going. Ramsay closed the door loudly on his way out. Theon took a deep breath, then promptly laid down on the bed and hid his burning face in the pillows.

* * *

Theon had fallen asleep, surprised at his own tiredness, and was still in his travelling wear, but it was no matter as they were also suited for the occasion. He followed the dark haired servant girl to the great hall, pulling his cloak about him in an effort to fight the coldness of the evening.

Summer in North Westeros was a joke.

Theon involuntarily shivered, but for another reason. The halls and passageways of the Dreadfort were creepier at night. More than once, he thought he heard weird noises similar to groans coming from any of the unlit archways that seemed to lead down, down with only some of the first few stone steps he could see.

They couldn't have that many torture chambers, did they?

The servant opened the doors of the great hall for him and Theon walked quickly. He could barely recognize anyone inside, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim lighting and the effect of fog from the smoke, but it didn't take him long to figure out where to sit in the high table when a figure stood up and walked towards him. It was Ramsay.

‘You were almost late to your own welcoming feast.’ Ramsay's tone was pleasant as he gripped Theon’s wrist too hard. ‘What were you doing, my lord?’

Theon winced and discreetly tried to take his hand away. Ramsay only tightened his grip until it felt like Theon’s bones would creak.

‘I fell into a deeper sleep than I thought. The servant girl had to wake me,’ explained Theon, trying to convey that he hadn't been having second thoughts and contemplating escape.

Not like his thoughts would have mattered anyway. He didn't want this marriage in the first place. What would Lord Stark even do? He was probably glad that Theon was going to be off his hands now.

Ramsay seemed to assess the verity of his explanation, before loosening his hold. He didn't let go though.

Theon didn't feel much like eating, his appetite lost, but forced himself to take some bites as he was sat in-between his future husband and his foster father.

As his eyes wandered the great hall, Theon thought he saw some Ironborn dining with the Bolton men. But that was impossible because Balon Greyjoy had not bothered to come and Theon didn't even know why the Boltons even accepted the no-show’s proposal. None of his real or foster family were here — except for Ned Stark. He had hoped that at least Yara would come, but there was no announcement of her presence or if she even knew that her little brother was marrying. She was probably out at sea, captaining a ship of her own and Theon the least of her worries. Maron and Rodrik most likely didn't even care, not wanting anything to do with their omegan younger brother.

‘You haven't finished your plate,’ whispered Ramsay close to his ear, startling Theon. ‘Are you not hungry?’

Theon shook his head. ‘No, my lord. I'm merely... pacing myself, so as to not upset my stomach.’

‘Eat faster.’ It sounded like an order. ‘You’ll need to wake up earlier for tomorrow.’

Theon looked down at his plate and tuned out the awkward conversations between the three alphas in the high table. This was his last meal as a “free” omega, before he would soon be bonded to his alpha with the mating ceremony tomorrow.

  
  


‘I’ll take Theon back to his room,’ said Ramsay, after the feast was over.

Lord Bolton stared at his son. ‘Try not to let your young passions consume you. We wouldn't want a child born out of wedlock now, would we?’

Ramsay clenched his jaw. ‘Of course not, father.’

Ramsay and his father didn't appear to have the best relationship... with what the poorly hidden barbs they’ve traded during the whole feast. More than once, Lord Bolton had alluded to Ramsay's bastard status and Ramsay looked close to exploding each time.

Theon’s wrist had become quite red, Ramsay's favorite victim.

As they walked back, Theon carefully kept close as he could to Ramsay without bumping into him. The Dreadfort looked creepy in the evening, but by nightfall, everything felt downright sinister. The noises from the men and women at the feast sounded distant although they were only a few paces back.

The courtyard was bathed in moonlight and only served to add to the surrealness of it all. There was a group of three men laughing harshly about one thing or another, their silhouettes emphasised by the full moon.

Theon breathed a sigh of relief when he finally got inside the room. There was a fire going on already which made it warmer than outside (and less darker).

Theon’s wrist was finally released and Ramsay looked at him, his glacial eyes intense as he took Theon’s fur cloak off his shoulders.

The press of lips against his own wasn't entirely unexpected.

Theon had never been kissed before and the experience was surprisingly pleasant — considering _who_ was kissing him.

‘That was my first time,’ said Theon stupidly when they broke apart.

‘Will I be the first for everything else too?’

Theon flushed red, wanting to take a step back at the implications, but nodded once.

Ramsay smiled, drew him closer and squeezed his hips. ‘Good.’

* * *

Theon woke up feeling like he was going to melt. But the fire had already died down long before being awakened by the sweltering heat of the fur covers. It was unusually hot this summer in the North.

There was a curt knock before an omega servant went in.

‘M’lord, a bath has been prepared for you,’ said she, her nostrils flaring a bit.

Theon didn't have the energy to call out the girl for the blatant rude gesture, however she may be unaware of it, and stood up. The world seemed to spin for a moment, before Theon closed his eyes.

‘M’lord...?’

‘Hm?’

‘Are you in...?’

‘What?’

The girl hesitated. 'Ah, is milord feeling well?’

_Do I not look fine?_

Theon nodded.

The servant girl led him up the Dreadfort and Theon saw and heard some commotion going on down in the courtyard from the occasional opening that showed up.

Today was the wedding ceremony, Theon distantly remembered.

* * *

He was burning. The bath did little to help as the water was warm and only brought some temporary relief. On the brightside, at least he was thoroughly cleaned enough and was no longer drenched in sweat as he was practically forced into white linen by beta servants.

The wedding ceremony was a solemn affair and took place in a forest near a river. Lord Stark was the one who thought of it, as to emphasize that it was a Northman and Ironborn coming together. Theon, truthfully, didn't care.

Lord Stark, standing in the place of his father, had removed Theon’s cloak that had the colors and sigil of House Greyjoy, which was specially made for this occasion, so that Ramsay could replace it with House Bolton’s own colors.

Standing as still as he could, Theon tried not to squirm as the septon made them recite vows that he had to memorise about the New and Old Gods blessing their union. Thankfully it was windy, helping to regulate his temperature.

The heart tree’s red leaves swayed with the wind and for some reason, its carved face looked like it was crying, blood running down from its closed eyes.

His eyes must be playing tricks on him.

Theon blinked slowly. Now, it appeared to be staring right through him with an expression of resignation.

He was immensely glad when he had to turn to face Ramsay to say their vows to each other, then Theon internally laughed at himself for thinking Ramsay was safer than a weirwood with a carved face. Well, he was a better sight than the tree that was for certain. The alpha was wearing an all black ensemble and he radiated dominance. On the other hand, Theon had to wear white, his overly ornate doublet down to his buskin, to symbolize his “innocence and purity.” Basically, about how he was still a virgin.

With the wedding finally over, there was a feast underway. The atmosphere marginally improved.

Food generally tended to do that.

Theon sat next to Ramsay in a table that overlooked the other guests, allies and bannermen of House Bolton. None of them he recognized.

If Theon didn't know any better, he was in the Iron Islands and had just become the salt groom to an unknown reaver that had stolen him from his home.

The closest thing to an ally (family?) Theon had right now was Lord Stark and the man watched the entire proceedings with a stern face, while his guardsmen stood behind from where he was seated. Lord Stark nodded his head in acknowledgement at sensing Theon’s stare.

Theon glanced at Ramsay before quickly averting his eyes when he realised the alpha had been looking at him, staring unabashedly. It made Theon sweat.

He took his goblet and gulped his wine down his suddenly parched throat.

_God, why was it so hot out?_

  
  


Theon swore he was going to burst into flames. His skin felt hot and clammy and his fifth intake of water that he requested from a serving girl did not get rid of the dryness of his throat like the fiery sands of Dorne.

Ramsay noticed his strange behaviour, of course. ‘Lord Theon?’

Theon whimpered when Ramsay touched his arm and he felt something gush between his thighs while his stomach cramped.

Was he in heat?

_It was too early._

‘A-Alpha—’ Theon stopped, mortified. A slight shift on how he sat caused more slick to gush and Theon rather hoped the Drowned God would strike him on the spot.

Ramsay stared at him in wonder. ‘Are you going into heat?’

‘Y-Yes,’ stuttered Theon, hiding his face with his hands. '...It's come early.’

‘Can you stand?’

‘I... I don't think I can. On my own...’

Ramsay stood and marched over to his father. He didn't know what they were talking about, but he could guess that it was about him as they constantly looked to his general direction.

Theon wanted to shrink under their combined gazes.

‘We’ll take our leave early,’ informed Ramsay as he made Theon stand, an arm around his waist.

Theon was most likely soiling the Bolton cloak as he was practically wrapped in it to hide his... predicament, so he was thankful it was a dark red colour. Although, of course, it brought the attention of the guests as Ramsay navigated their way through the crowd to a horse.

One of the Bolton men untied the horse from the tree it was secured to, steadying it while Ramsay helped Theon up its back. Ramsay climbed up after, brought Theon close to his chest and took the reins, kickstarting the horse to a gallop, back to the Dreadfort.

* * *

The door was slammed shut. Theon tried to gain enough lucidity to wonder where he was before he was unceremoniously pushed down onto his back onto a featherbed. Theon moaned as he was kissed savagely by his alpha. The alpha took the opportunity to shove his tongue down his throat, ploughing his mouth, while he roughly removed each piece of Theon’s attire. Alpha grunted in frustration, breaking off Theon’s swollen lips and tore some of his cloth in frustration rather than wasting time in unlacing them and threw them away to a corner of the room. Now in his smallclothes, Theon no longer felt like he was being suffocated, although his body was still feverish.

Vaguely, Theon heard his alpha speak.

‘—Can't believe my fucking luck. You're a pretty, desperate whore, aren't you, my omega?’

‘Yes, yes, I'm a whore,’ babbled Theon mindlessly, tears in his eyes and needing badly some relief to the empty ache in his stomach. ‘Please please please— Alpha—’

‘Fuck. Knew you were perfect when I first saw you—’ Theon gasped at the feel of one thick finger exploring his insides and more slick rushed out. ‘You're so wet. You're gushing so much. I could just take you as you are right now.’

Theon felt rather embarrassed by that and hid his face with his arms.

‘No, none of that now.’

His arms were pried away from his face as his alpha ravaged his lips again while swallowing down his moans as another finger entered his slick passageway, expertly hitting that same bundle of nerves each time that made Theon gush copious amounts of slick. When his alpha pulled his fingers out, he replaced his tongue with his fingers and Theon could taste his own slick.

His smallclothes were pulled and pushed down his hips, leaving him completely bare. Theon cried out and then moaned, almost gagging on his alpha’s thick fingers when he was swiftly entered with a hard thrust after his alpha positioned himself at his entrance.

Drowned God, it felt good. His alpha’s big, throbbing cock inside him was so good that Theon immediately orgasmed — yet he was still so hard after and he still needed more stimulation.

‘Gods, you're a tight bitch—’ hissed Alpha, clutching Theon’s hip with one hand in a bruising grip.

Theon wrapped his sweaty legs together, around his alpha's waist, encouraging the alpha. His thighs quivered as it made the cock inside him sheathe deeper. Theon made a whining noise at the loss of the fingers in his mouth, before he cried out again as Alpha began slamming his length powerfully into him.

Most of the odd, breathy high-pitched noises that Theon distantly heard through his ringing ears were actually coming from his own mouth and with a lax jaw, he was drooling while he was fucked into the furs that surrounded him. His own hard cock was untouched, but it didn't matter as his alpha constantly scraped over that spot inside Theon that made his head swim and hot tears to prickle his eyes.

How much time had passed he didn't know — all he knew was his alpha’s length and he came so much, his eyes felt like they were about to roll out of his head. Sometimes he felt himself go in and out of consciousness, but his alpha still pounded into his overly slick channel. Words poured out of his mouth, mindlessly encouraging.

When hot warmth filled his insides followed by an enlarged cock, the alpha surged forwards, covering Theon’s whole body with his own and sunk his sharp canines into his neck, claiming him.

Theon was just so out of it, he didn't feel the pain and only clenched his arsehole tighter around the knot which made the alpha growl.

Soon, he was out of it, finally allowed rest as his alpha just held him.

  
  


Sweaty and sticky, Theon wanted nothing more than to simply curl up and die, remembering with startling clarity what events transpired hours prior to leave him in such current entanglement with Ramsay. His alpha. His _husband_.

Ramsay was only happy to help.

‘If I hadn't known for sure that you were a virgin, I would have doubted you,’ said Ramsay, his pale eyes shining in mirth. ‘My dear lord husband, your mouth was absolutely _filthy_.’

Theon groaned in mortification.

_‘Fuck me fuck me— Fuck your babies into me!’_

_‘A-Alpha— Ah! It's too much, too much cock— Your cock, oh gods—’_

_‘I’m a whore! Yes! Your whore!’_

Theon whimpered pathetically as he remembered exactly what he had said.

Ramsay continued, speaking lowly. ‘You were absolutely beautiful when you speared yourself on my cock.’

_Ramsay rolled them around, so that Theon was sat astride on his lap, on his cock. and the omega had immediately set himself to work, slipping up and sliding down in a sensual pace, trying to get Ramsay's thick cock to brush over his spot. Theon’s hands practically clawed Ramsay's firm stomach as he single-mindedly chased his peak and moaned like some cheap Winter Town whore when Ramsay thrust up each time he went down._

Theon was blushing madly now, laying still as his whole body thrummed with pleasure at each vivid scene he was revisiting in his head while his arsehole still trickled with Ramsay’s seed and his body’s natural lubricant.

'That's turned you on then?’ Ramsay smiled down at him, as he pinned Theon underneath his body.

Theon’s eyes couldn’t help but to admire the sight of Ramsay's broad shoulders, muscled arms and fair skin that Theon could see had been marked viciously with his nails. Theon attempted to meet Ramsay's amused-looking stare, before he turned his head away in embarrassment.

‘Gods, you're lovely,’ murmured Ramsay as he kissed his way up from Theon’s neck, to the bite mark he’d made, to his lips made plump and swollen from Ramsay’s teeth.

Ramsay grasped his head. Theon closed his eyes and wound his arms around those broad shoulders as he felt Ramsay ease his way inside easily and they began to undulate together.

‘I think I’ll keep you.’

Theon wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but his thoughts soon quickly fell away as he trembled in ecstasy.


	8. Arranged Ch 2: Dowry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 of Arranged
> 
> Yara Greyjoy visits.

There wasn't anything interesting to do in the Dreadfort except for writing letters, menial chores a highborn omega could do, practicing his archery, and avoiding Roose Bolton (an endeavor he always failed at). Ironically, Ramsay was the only one he felt comfortable around the bloody miserable place. He showed Theon around, but carefully avoided broaching the subject of what exactly was underneath the fortress and what his duties from his father were. Not that Theon was especially eager to know.

The people of the Dreadfort were not unkind, but they were hardly approachable — Although he was pretty sure that the kennel master's omega daughter, Myranda, hated him for whatever reason.

_‘She constantly glares at my direction. I’m not certain what she has against me— She's lucky she won't get much but a simple complaint from me.’_

_‘Whom do you speak of?’ Ramsay had a dark look on his face._

_‘Ramsay.’ They had decided to address each other less formally and be on a first name basis. ‘Please lower your knife. The kennel master’s— Ben Bones was it?— daughter.’_

_‘Yes. Ben Bones. His daughter is Myranda... I’ll have a little talk with her.’_

_‘No, that's not necessary. It's fine.’_

_‘Whatever grudge she has against you, I don't want it affecting your health. She happens to be friends with the cook’s daughter.’_

_‘Why would you think she’d come to measures such as that? What grievances does she have?’_

_'Let's just say that I have history with her.’ Ramsay paused. ‘Back when I was still “Snow.”’_

After that particular day, Myranda only glared at him behind his back and Theon made it a point to mention Ramsay whenever she was near just to spite her.

Ramsay's hounds liked him better than her anyways even though she was the one who took care of them (he resolutely tried not to think about the unusually long bones the hunting dogs were fed with, that Ben Bones claimed to be “deer”).

Meanwhile, meal times were always a tense event as Lord Bolton and Ramsay discussed the world at large while exchanging thinly veiled insults across the table with pleasant-but-not tones. Theon was often dragged in the middle of it, trying to appease both and calming Ramsay down.

Just a usual day at the Dreadfort.

* * *

‘Lord Theon, you have a raven,’ informed Maester Tybald. ‘From your sister, Yara Greyjoy.’

‘What?’

Yara had a letter for him?

Accepting the letter, Theon practically ran and entered his room to unfurl the rolled parchment. Typical of Yara, it was curt and straight to the point with messy scrawl.

  
  


Theon,

This letter will reach you by the time I’ve set out to visit you and your Northman husband.

Your sister.

  
  


Theon huffed in annoyance and threw the letter into the fireplace. So she _did_ know about the wedding, yet she still hadn’t come. What a caring family he had. _Jon_ had sent him far more letters than she had after his wedding.

* * *

After another session of “lovemaking” (read: _brutal fucking_ ), Ramsay collapsed atop him, mouthing at his neck, Theon’s arms around his shoulders as they panted heavily.

‘My sister—’ Theon paused to take a breath. ‘My sister will visit the Dreadfort.’

Ramsay grunted. ‘You tell me now?’

‘You didn't exactly let me say anything.’

Theon winced a bit as Ramsay pulled out.

‘When will she come?’

‘By a week, at most.’

Yara’s letter had faintly smelled of the sea, which Theon led himself to conclude she had written it while sailing.

* * *

  
  


There was the sound of a horn blow, jolting Theon awake. He tried to recall where he was before remembering he was in his own room.

Another horn blow reverberated and Theon was up on his feet, removing his nightshirt and replacing it with his recently washed clothing. Outside his room was full of activity as servants scurried about, carrying this and that, preparing for another welcoming party. The Dreadfort seemed more welcoming day by day (though still terrifying).

Theon memorized his way to the courtyard and then saw the Greyjoy banners. There were about ten men in total and Theon recognized Yara at the front immediately. He felt a hand on his waist and turned to see that it was Ramsay.

‘Come, sweetling. Let's greet your lady sister.’

Theon blushed lightly, unused to the term of endearment, but walked with Ramsay to his sister. He was nervous suddenly at the prospect of talking with his sister, who he hadn't seen for many moons.

‘Lady Yara, you're earlier than expected.’

Yara immediately examined Theon’s form with her dark eyes when she took notice of his appearance, disquietingly feeling like she was looking him over for any damage before turning her gaze to Ramsay.

‘I never specified when exactly I would come. Been treating my omega baby brother well, have you?’

Ramsay smiled sharply. ‘Of course. I treat _my_ omega well.’

Theon bit his lip at the hostility while he internally sighed.

Yara and Ramsay disliked each other. Theon could see it, but they pretended to be civil as they discussed business that Theon wasn't privy to after breaking bread and starting the party.

Although there were only ten men, they were a boisterous bunch and harassed any serving beta girl and omega that came to their tables. Theon watched in distaste, but Yara and Ramsay didn't seem to mind. The servants themselves took it with faces of long-suffering. If he was in Winterfell, these men would be acting with more decorum, but also seeing it now, Theon knew Ned Stark’s laws did not seem to extend to the rest of the North.

* * *

  
  


‘It's not much, but this is the room you’ll be staying in,’ Theon said. ‘The servants have already brought up your belongings... I’ll, um, I’ll be going now.’

Theon didn't move though, waiting for Yara to say something.

‘...Do you like your husband?’

Theon blinked in surprise, before considering his words. 'He's good to me.’

‘Hmph. He better be.’

That seemed to be all what Yara wanted to say so Theon finally left, a bit disappointed. They had never been much for words and sentimentality, he supposed that part of them wouldn't change.

  
  


* * *

‘Yara is staying just down the hall one room over–’

Theon was cut off as he was kissed, brought over to sit on Ramsay's lap. He stifled a moan as Ramsay's calloused hand reached under his britches, passing his hard cock and slipped a finger in his entrance, which was already wet with slick.

‘Guess you’ll just have to do your best to stay quiet now, don't you?’ Ramsay grinned, using a knife to cut off his jerkin and tunic, exposing Theon’s skin to the cold while Theon winced a bit at the scarily sharp knife nicking his chest. A small bead of blood bloomed from the small wound and Ramsay licked it away, his left hand in Theon’s britches then his two fingers slipped inside while his right hand was a warm weight on his hip.

Theon made a loud noise at the back of his throat when the two searching fingers suddenly brushed over his bundle of nerves. Theon gasped, holding onto Ramsay's shoulders and barely held back a cry when the fingers inside him abruptly changed speed and started jabbing at that spot. Theon felt so depraved as he gushed excess slick without being in heat.

Ramsay laughed breathlessly. ‘Piss poor job you're doing of it though, sweetling.’

Ramsay abruptly pulled his fingers out and Theon whined at the loss, his arse throbbing. Ramsay turned them around and placed him on his back in the middle of the bed.

Theon watched shamelessly as Ramsay took off his own clothing quickly (and weapons), leaving him only in his britches. The Ironborn omega’s mouth dried a bit as he took in his alpha's form. Then Ramsay pulled off Theon’s own britches and smallclothes. Theon automatically spread his thighs to accommodate Ramsay in between them.

His alpha's cock was released from its confinement from untying the laces of his britches, red and bulging. Theon made a gasping noise when Ramsay rubbed his cock against his hard cock and arsehole, using Theon’s slick to lube himself up, while holding Theon’s knees apart. Ramsay positioned himself at his entrance and, without warning, entered with a lunge, embedding himself deeply in Theon, who cried out in surprise and then in pleasure.

The pace set was fast and his alpha’s thrusts hit that spot inside Theon without fail, that made him go dumb with the sensation. The featherbed moved with the force of the thrusts, rocking and hitting the stone wall it was up against. Theon was drowning and flying at the same time, his hands clutching the fur blankets and legs hanging uselessly in the air, draped over Ramsay's shoulders.

A thrust, in and out. Theon’s breath whooshed out of him before he inhaled air again sharply. The air was practically being fucked into and out of him.

_Gods..._

Another thrust, in and out. Theon’s eyes were rolling to the back of his head and his mouth seemed to be permanently open in a ‘O.’

_Gods, it felt so good, good good good..._

‘Who do you belong to?’ Ramsay said, breathing heavily and growling as he wrapped his large hands around Theon’s throat, letting his legs drop, thrusting impossibly faster as the bed’s stone legs grinded against the floor with the force. ‘Sweetling, answer me.’

‘Y-You!’ Theon managed to choke out and couldn't help but let out a loud, high-pitched moan to encourage his alpha.

‘That's right, my sweet bitch– You're fucking mine. Fuck!’

Theon’s balls tightened then he came at the feeling of his alpha's thick, warm seed emptying inside him.

'You're only mine, got that?’ When Theon sleepily nodded, Ramsay kissed his lips and then his forehead. ‘Mine,’ he repeated.

‘Yours...’ Theon agreed, blissfully fucked out.

* * *

‘I heard strange noises last night,’ Yara commented offhandedly. ‘What animal did you have loose in this castle?’

Theon blushed a bit, feeling embarrassed — Gods, all he ever felt was embarrassment nowadays — and imperceptibly cleared his sore throat. He wisely drank his goblet of water, to avoid giving an answer.

Ramsay's eyes shone in mirth, knowingly looking at Theon. Theon tried not to choke as he suddenly inhaled a lot of water at the leering.

‘We have hounds. They’re quite the boisterous bunch,’ said Ramsay smoothly.

Yara hemmed and hawed in understanding. Fortunately, she didn't seem to have paid much attention to the noises and Theon was ever grateful for the Dreadfort’s thick walls.

Breakfast was not a quiet affair, which Theon was used to. He was the subject and he was

(Theon being generally uncomfortable with the atmosphere his alpha sister and husband have created, but also annoyed at how they're discussing him as if he wasn't there.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ends abruptly. Third chapter is broken and very short.


	9. Arranged Ch 3: Bearer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 of Arranged
> 
> Concerns Theon's pregnancy.

‘Lord Theon is with child,’ said the Maester. ‘His body is currently undergoing some adjustments as we speak and his moods will be difficult to predict or control.’

Ramsay was wide-eyed, staring at Theon’s sleeping form. He focused on the now strange lump on his omega’s stomach, which the omega had previously complained about — thinking he was gaining weight and how he began having a hunger for meat that could rival Ramsay's.

Theon was bearing a child. Ramsay's heir.

(Ramsay is very gleeful and contemplates how to deal with Roose because the man is getting on his nerves.)

* * *

‘Theon. Don't leave the room.’

The Ironborn omega had the gall to glare at him.

‘I have my own chambers! All I’ve done is stay in this bloody place because you won't let me venture anywhere without your damned presence!’

Ramsay growled, speaking lowly. ‘I think you need to go back to bed, omega.’

Suddenly, Theon’s aqua eyes immediately shone bright with unspilled tears and his red lips quivered.

He was so infuriatingly adorable, like some kicked pup. Ramsay wanted to punish him and smother him with kisses at the same time.

'I'm sorry.’ Theon sniffled, making himself smaller.

The want to smother him with kisses won over the former and Ramsay strode across the room and pulled his omega closer. He felt Theon’s bump and Ramsay couldn't help but feel an encompassing sense of wonder. He was a Bolton and his highborn omega was giving him an heir. Ramsay kissed Theon and as always, the little omega practically melted into the kiss.

But Ramsay still needed to teach him a lesson.

‘Down you go, sweetling,’ whispered Ramsay near Theon’s ear.

(Sex)

* * *

‘I want Ramsay here. Where is he?’ Theon demanded childishly.

One of Ramsay’s boys, Damien or something, looked at him with something like askance.

(Theon being a brat and needing Ramsay with him at all times. The tables have turned.)

* * *

‘You don’t seem excited to go back to Winterfell,’ Ramsay asked his omega, watching him

(They're going to a feast that will occur in Winterfell.)


	10. He'd Stolen Him From His Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medieval Fantasy AU...
> 
> Theon is some kind of water creature.

There was a voice humming deep in the woods and Ramsay followed it, deeply curious about the source of the strange song that he felt he wasn’t really supposed to hear. Along the pathway made by animals, all that met his sight was a nude man, or at least based on the figure and anatomy of the person. The face could have been mistaken as womanish in a certain lighting. Ramsay hid from view, feeling compelled to watch the stranger. It wasn’t entirely odd for one to strip off their clothes and bathe in freshwater, but what was indeed odd was the clothes in question which were not anywhere in sight and the lilies stuck to his brown or blond hair (he couldn’t tell as the man’s hair was wet).

Odder so was what he was doing, carrying a woven basket and placing down lily pads.

The snap of a twig alarmed Ramsay and made him wary, but it seemed to have scared the stranger and he dropped the basket, retreating into the water.

However, it was merely a deer and the stranger emerged from where he submerged himself underwater. The deer did not flee at the sight of him, unafraid, even when the man spoke to it in a language unknown to Ramsay and the animal continued to calmly take a drink from the water. The strange man went back to where he left his basket and continued with his even stranger task.

Initially, Ramsay would have just chalked him up to be just some strange deviant, but now it seemed there was something more to the person. He was intrigued. Normally, when faced with unknown danger, a normal person might run away — and yes, the stranger did seem intent on avoiding the danger, but instead of running _out_ of the water and back to land, he instinctively went _into_ the water and without seemingly any further thought to it. All instinct.

After a moment’s more of watching, Ramsay decided to reveal himself. At his appearance, the deer fled and the stranger quickly _disappeared_ into the water’s depths. Ramsay stalked over to the basket and the reeds unwound in his hands when he picked it up. There were no lily pads inside.

Ramsay was unnerved and he left after seeing nothing but the murky waters, though not before memorizing the route he took to this place.

* * *

“What do you call a beautiful, human-like being that resides in rivers with hair decorated with little flowers?”

Maester Tybald considered his question nervously, ‘respectfully maintaining his distance’ near the bookshelves in the Dreadfort’s small library and eyeing the knife in Ramsay's hand warily. Ramsay merely raised a brow, as he took the skin of the red apple in his hand and awaited an answer.

“M-My lord, it seems you are describing a nymph. Mortal goddesses of myth,” Maester Tybald answered. “A water nymph to be exact. They are also known as Naiads. Unlike White Walkers, they are far older and are directly related to the Old Gods because they were the daughters—”

“What about sons?” Ramsay interrupted.

“Nymphs were entirely known to be female, my lord.”

“Well, what about the opposite of a nymph? The other spectrum?”

“Satyrs, my lord, they are male spirits that watch over nature similar to nymphs. Their lower half are goat parts while the upper torso is entirely human.”

Ramsay sighed loudly and stood from his seat. “You were entirely unhelpful Maester Tybald. All you’ve given me is more questions rather than answers.”

“My lord, were that I were of any more help, I would've known what information you needed. I'm not entirely well-versed in mythology,” Maester Tybald said in an apologetic tone. “But I could recommend you some books—”

“No need. I’ll be off on my way.” He didn't want to fucking read books about creatures he didn't care about.

He wanted to capture the creature he saw that was apparently neither a nymph, nor a satyr.

* * *

The only problem was on how to approach him without him disappearing into the water each time. Although it seemed like the male was getting braver and getting used to his presence, he still went underwater whenever Ramsay tried to come closer.

“So I hear you’ve taken a sudden interest in reading?”

Ramsay’s expression became carefully blank as his father came into his view.

“What is this new obsession of yours with nonexistent creatures? Not that I entirely oppose it. It's a better use of your time than those hunts you do,” Roose drawled. “Though Maester Tybald says you intend on capturing a nymph?”

He didn't sound especially mocking, but Ramsay was often annoyed at everything about the man who sired him.

“Reading? I’m looking at the drawings,” Ramsay claimed.

Roose didn't comment further, just sighing and continued on his way to the Maester. Probably about his disgusting leeches. Ramsay preferred to be ignorant in that case.

(Ramsay doing more research.)

* * *

  
  


“You always come.”

Ramsay eyed the human-like creature in front of him in disbelief. “You speak?”

(Theon finally interacts with Ramsay and Ramsay charms him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not very knowledgeable of myths, but I know how to bullshit.


	11. Big Bad Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern Setting AU
> 
> Ramsay plays a mean prank on Theon.
> 
> This one, I attempted to make a script/play format. Doesn't translate well to AO3.

## Part 1

**OUTSIDE DREADFORT MANOR - NIGHT**

THEON, 16, is standing on his own in front of Dreadfort Manor, an “abandoned” building that looked the part of some impenetrable fortress with many stories of tortured souls and of how the weirwood tree on site was contorted into a face of unending pain. Of course, those were only just rumours and that was why Theon came here to this allegedly haunted manor with his friend to confirm them. Or at least, his friend who had been there with him just a few moments ago.

THEON

This was not a good idea. I shouldn’t have let you convince me to go along with this stupid stuff. Ramsay, let’s go back... Ramsay? ...Hey, this isn’t funny. Are you seriously gone? Did he seriously ditch me?

THEON looks around uneasily at his surroundings, pointedly ignoring the creepy woods behind him and takes out his phone from his front pocket to quickly text RAMSAY.

THEON (CONT’D)

“You asshole. Where are you?” C’mon, reply asshat of a friend. Leaving me on my own here. In the dark. In the middle of fucking nowhere— Fuck.

**IN THE WOODS NEAR THE BOLTON’S RESIDENCE**

RAMSAY, 16, stands on a platform on the roof of a Mercedes-Benz Gruma Hunter with night vision binoculars. He looks down at his phone’s bright screen as a message notification pops up on the lockscreen.

RAMSAY

“I swear we won’t be friends anymore if you keep playing this stupid game of yours”? How cute. This is his 10th text in a row. Needy, isn’t he?

DAMON, 17, scoffs from where he is leaning on the butt of his rifle on the ground.

DAMON

Ramsay, when will we actually start? We’ve been waiting here since dusk. Geez, Alyn over there is getting worked up over nothing again and picking a fight with Skinner.

(to Alyn)

Did you forget to take your damn meds?

ALYN, 17, flips the bird and scowls at DAMON’S question. He does not bother to answer.

DAMON (CONT’D)

Alyn’s gonna fucking kill him before we do anything else and ruin everyone's night because he doesn’t have any godsdamn self-control.

RAMSAY

What’re you on about? Nobody’s killing nobody tonight.

DAMON

What? I thought this was gonna be another hunt.

RAMSAY

I didn’t bring my fucking hunting dogs, did I? Gods, you guys are fucking dense— None of you are allowed to lay your filthy hands on him, got that? We’re doing something different for this special Halloween night.

ALYN

Then what the FUCK are we even HERE for? What was the fucking point of kidnapping that—

ALYN is elbowed harshly on the gut by SKINNER, 19, and grunts in pain.

SKINNER ALYN

(Overlapping) (Overlapping)

Your loud ass mouth Fuck you, Skinner.

is annoying as hells. That fucking hurt.

ALYN

That bitch boy runs and we could just shoot his fucking legs, what’s the big deal? No touching even.

RAMSAY

He’s mine is what it is. Only I get to do shit to him.

ALYN

What? Not gonna share him?

RAMSAY

No, not this one. Put your guns in the back—

He tosses the binoculars to DAMON, who barely manages to catch it, and climbs down the ladder against the car that was connected to the car roof’s platform.

RAMSAY (CONT’D)

So, have you guys ever been to a haunted house?

SKINNER

Those things are scary

(pauses)

but what’s that got to do with anything?

RAMSAY

Wonderful. You already know what I expect of you— 

ALYN

(laughs)

You’re such a fucking wuss. Haunted houses aren’t scary. They’re fake.

SKINNER

Says the guy who cries like a little kid when you see a fucking clown just doing his job.

ALYN

They’re legitimately scary. You never know if one of them is secretly a serial killer. Have you seen IT? Shit’s crazy— 

SKINNER

Shit ain't real, stupid ass.

DAMON

For fuck’s sake, can you two stop with your pointless bickering? Gods, we fucking _kill_ people for fun.

RAMSAY

...Are you guys trying to test my patience right now?

ALYN, SKINNER and DAMON immediately turn quiet at RAMSAY’S tone.

RAMSAY (CONT’D)

Now, listen carefully...

**IN FRONT OF DREADFORT MANOR’S GATES**

THEON is pacing back and forth, constantly glancing down at his phone. RAMSAY still has not replied and his messages have not been read. He is growing increasingly paranoid and twitchy at hearing strange noises from the woods.

THEON

(jumps)

Oh God, what was that? I’m... I’m just hearing things, that’s all it is. I should call Robb— Fuck, I won’t resort to that. He’s just going to be angry at me. Ramsay, where are you? Pick up my call, please, please— 

CLOSE ON: THEON’S RINGING PHONE with RAMSAY’S name displayed on the screen. It stops ringing a second later followed by one BEEP. RAMSAY finally answers.

THEON (CONT’D)

Ramsay! Where in the seven hells are you? Why are you ignoring my messages? Where are you? I don’t know this place. It’s fucking scary out here. If this is one of your stupid pranks... Hello? Rams? You asshole, say something. Rams??

The call abruptly ends. His phone BEEPS thrice. 

THEON (CONT’D)

Are you fucking serious?

Then, he looks to the edge of the woods and sees a BRIGHT flood of light moving around, illuminating the trees and forest floor as if searching for something. It disappears as quickly as it had come...

Everything is plunged back into DARKNESS.

OFF SCREEN, there is a TERRIBLE and LOUD FEMININE SCREAM.

THEON’S panicking breath is loud in the sudden silence. He frantically looks between the huge manor and the woods that surround it and starts mindlessly running to a random direction (which happens to be the woods).

**DREADFORT WOODS**

THEON

Agh–!

RAMSAY

Oh my god– Theon! Where the fuck were you?


	12. Cult Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern Setting AU
> 
> Thramsay featuring one-sided Throbb
> 
> The Starks are visiting a very weird place.
> 
> Was inspired to make a cult fic because of PenelopeTower's cult fic.

‘Would... Would you maybe want to exchange numbers?’ Robb asks. He’d worked up all his courage for this.

Theon’s smile falls into a frown and he's looking at Robb strangely.

_ Oh shit _ , Robb thinks in a panic.  _ Too forward! _

Robb quickly says something else. ‘Y’know, to chat, text and call each other whenever we feel like it. As friends.’

Theon turns his head and whispers to his friend named Jeyne as they continue weaving the newest additions of the Weeping Water tapestry. Robb can't really tell what the two are furiously whispering about because he's suddenly uneasy. Not at what Theon will say, but something else he couldn't quite put a name to.

‘...Robb?’ Theon finally says, drawing Robb's attention back to his face instead of the tapestry. ‘Yeah, we can have each other's numbers.’ Theon pauses and gets up, going to another room.

Robb doesn't know whether to follow him or not, so he awkwardly stands and waits while Jeyne stares at him, unblinkingly. She's still weaving.

Robb leans over some of the finished work. ‘Uh, that's a nice... dog?’

‘Don’t touch it,’ Jeyne hisses and startles him.

‘Sorry.’

Jeyne frowns before her face softens imperceptibly, looking at him with something unreadable. 'I don't want anyone else to mess it up. This is hell.’

Robb nods in what he hopes is understanding.

There's a sound of a door opening and closing from the other side before Theon comes back, carrying a book of some sorts. Theon smiles at him and Robb calms down a bit at his presence.

‘Here,’ Theon says, handing him a fancy fountain pen and then flips to the last page which was completely empty. ‘Write down your number so I could remember to put it in the phone.’

That... sentence sounded weird, but Robb thinks nothing further of it. He does question the thick, hard bound book though.

‘There really isn't anything else around here to write with except for these,’ Theon explains apologetically.

Robb had looked around and knew he was right. The building was some kind of shed and nothing else seemed of value except for all the knitting, weaving tools and tons of unfinished tapestry.

‘So, what's yours? Your number?’

Theon blinks, glancing to Jeyne then back to Robb.

‘My... number?

‘He doesn't remember and we have to finish this before night,’ Jeyne says pointedly, but she's no longer looking at him and was instead focusing on the tapestry.

‘Oh. That's fine. At least you have my number now, so you could try calling me with it.’

Theon smiles. ‘Yes.’

* * *

This small town in Weeping Water, Dreadfort, is the strangest. Robb constantly feels as if he’s not supposed to stay here for too long and gets the same feeling of walking into some kind of abandoned building in the afternoon.

The Boltons are the most normal though quite cold, nothing more than formally polite (except, he's pretty sure Roose Bolton's son, Ramsay, hates his guts for whatever reason). Jeyne is the second “normal.” Meanwhile, Theon is outright odd, but he's the most enjoyable conversationalist out of practically everyone else.

It’s his second day in Weeping Water and the strangeness still persists. His parents are in the dining room, chatting with Mr. Bolton, and his siblings are still fast asleep. Robb decides to go out and just walk around town (to find Theon).

He’s about to go out the front door when it opens and Ramsay walks in, looking entirely different from yesterday. Robb is confused for a moment, wondering if Mr. Bolton had another son. It was amazing how different he looked in what he assumed to be his casual wear.

‘Hi. Good morning,’ Robb greets.

‘Morning. Are you going out?’

‘Yeah. Planning on walking around and take in the new sights.’

Ramsay snorts. ‘Ha. Okay.’

* * *

It doesn't take long to find him. He is still in the shed with Jeyne, working on another piece.

Theon looks up immediately with wide sea glass eyes. ‘Ah! Ram—’

When Theon’s eyes land on his own, his wide-eyed look turns to a smile. ‘Oh. Hi, Robb.’

‘Heyo. Whatcha doing this time? I was surprised to still find you at this workshop.’

Theon shrugs. 'I've got nothing better to do. I'm surprised you're still here!’

‘I’ll be staying for 2 more days.’

‘For 2 days, huh?’ He turns to Jeyne. ‘Jeyne, you can go outside. You don't have to stay cooped up with me.’

Jeyne stays silent for a moment before she puts down her needle in some kind of finality.

‘Yeah. I’ll go outside,’ Jeyne decides. ‘You’ll be okay here, Thee?’

‘I’m sure I will!’

Jeyne gives him a doubtful look, but she stands and passes by Robb to the front entrance. He feels a papery texture slip in his one closed fist. He resists the urge to glance at the woman in confusion.

* * *

Robb finally looks at the small piece of paper that Jeyne had given him.

“DONT LET THEON SEE” Robb reads in the somewhat small writing. He quickly looks up to see Theon’s questioning smile.

Why does he feel suddenly so uneasy?

‘Whatcha got there?’ Theon asks with genuine curiosity.

‘...Pick up lines for me to say to you.’

Theon doesn't blush or anything. He just looks up at him in confusion.

Robb thinks that's... an unusual reaction.

  
  


(Robb manages to hide the paper from Theon. Jeyne has escaped and Robb isn't sure what to think of what she's claiming in the paper — that the town is a cult.)

* * *

Robb leans in and kisses Theon's gentle, smiling lips while his eyes are closed. Theon snaps his eyes open in shock.

Robb doesn't think he has fucked up when suddenly Theon cries. It's not a joyous one.

'Why'd you do that!?’

‘W-What? I'm sorry— I thought—’

‘What have you done? I'm no longer...!’ Theon sobs, covering his face with his hands. ‘No, no, no! Ramsay won't...’ A red, teary face meets his. ‘Was this a test?’

He sounds desperate.

‘Have I failed?’

Robb is growing concerned by the minute and is unnerved.

‘No, I just—’

Theon seems to realize something and stops crying, looking at him sadly. ‘You... You kissed me! You weren't supposed to do that! Don't you know? Don't you know?’

‘Know what?!’ Robb asks, frustration leaking in his voice. He doesn't know anything and everything in Weeping Water was always a little bit too odd for his taste, and now his crush is devastated by him kissing him!

‘Ramsay owns me, he owns me. No one is allowed to touch me without his permission. D-Did you have permission? Anyone can have their way with me with Master’s permission. He's a generous master,’ Theon babbled. ‘I don't know a lot still, but Master teaches me many things.’

(Theon freaks out Robb and Robb wants to confront Roose Bolton's son for information.)

* * *

‘Oh. Hi Stark.’

Robb had burst into Bolton Jr’s usual hangout (which he accidentally discovered) before stopping in his tracks.

(The hangout is creepier than usual and Ramsay is fucking Theon in front of a group of people. The group of people try to attack Robb, but Ramsay stops them and says he's a guest. Weird shit ensues and Robb isn't allowed to leave until the end of it.)


	13. Positive Reinforcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunger Games AU
> 
> Thramsay featuring one-sided Throbb and slightly unrequited Patrek/Theon
> 
> Intended to be chaptered, but I didn't. The way I wrote this... I'm the media. This is mostly pairing dynamic.
> 
> I was inspired to write this after a Hunger Games AU that I vaguely recall reading. It was with Theon volunteering for Robb. In there, Patrek dies because of Tyene.

Theon fixed Wex’s collar, but the boy unbuttoned it soon after, staring defiantly at him. Theon sighed, letting it be, and walked over to Jeyne. She was struggling with her braid, appearing to be one more tug away from ripping off her whole hair and Theon took over.

‘Jeyne, go with Sansa, okay? Follow her.’ Theon instructed calmly, after he finished braiding Jeyne’s hair.

‘Thee, what if — what if I get chosen?’ Jeyne asked with trembling lips, looking as if she was valiantly trying not to cry.

‘Unlikely. Someone else will be chosen. Maybe that brat who keeps bothering you at school... Aymee? Aylee? Or something like that, maybe she’ll get chosen.’

‘You’re horrible, Thee,’ she said, glaring at him. Meanwhile, Wex pulled his hair to express his displeasure. ‘I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.’

Theon winced and batted away Wex’s hand, shooting him a look, to which the boy returned by blowing a raspberry at him. ‘Someone will still be inevitably chosen.’

Jeyne huffed angrily. ‘I know that.’

‘But it won’t be the two of you.’

Dusting off imaginary dirt from Jeyne’s plain sundress (it was a little small on her frame because it used to be Arya’s), Theon looked out from the simple square opening that was the window. A sea of grim faces were walking past their house to the town square. Theon grabbed Jeyne’s and Wex’s hand — he didn’t know whether his palms were the sweaty ones or his siblings — and they finally went outside to join what could’ve been a funeral procession.

When they reached the square, they had to separate with Jeyne and she ran to Sansa. Theon followed her movement, making sure to know where she was going, until Robb grabbed him so that he wouldn’t bump into a peacekeeper. He followed Robb, not letting go of Wex’s hand, as they lined up for identification.

It was eerily silent, no one talking as they were placed in order of age and name. Theon glanced behind him to see where Wex was, before he stared back at the front.

Barbrey Dustin, Jory Cassel and Robb’s mother were sitting on the stage while the mayor, Robb’s father, read out the same old story. Ned Stark always looked like he’d bit into a particularly sour lemon whenever he had to read it, grimmer than his usual one and entertaining no one from the fact that he absolutely hated this.

Attention drifting away as he tuned out the words, he was instead staring intently at the glass bowls. It was as if a moment had barely passed for Theon when Mayor Stark finished; Barbrey did her unenthusiastic introduction, spun the glass bowl and then picked a name without any fanfare.

Theon felt sorry for the—

‘Jeyne Poole!’ Barbrey announced.

Wait, what?

He heard Sansa’s loud cry of shock and every head turned in the girl’s section to Jeyne, whose face rapidly lost color when she realised her name had been called. Some people also turned their eyes to him, giving him looks of pity.

He could only watch as Jeyne walked slowly to the stage, her wide, frightened brown eyes meeting his before she pursed her lips and made her face go blank. She stared resolutely at the far distance and Theon was both proud and horrified.

Barbrey wasted no time in calling for a boy’s name — and really, the gods definitely hated him.

‘Wex Snow!’

Theon wasn’t sure if he was still breathing or if anything was still even real. A fourteen and twelve year old as Winterfell’s tributes? Both his little siblings? There was a murmur of discontent in the square. They wouldn't have a chance at all (as if there was any in the first place).

Theon’s mind was back to earth at the same time he was moving on autopilot, going closer to Wex and shrugging off Robb’s hand on his shoulder. He could make it, he thought madly. He just needed to grab him and maybe he could also reach Jeyne — the peacekeepers blocked his way.

Words fell out of his mouth before he realised it. ‘I volunteer as tribute!’

The square fell silent.

‘Winterfell’s first ever volunteer in years,’ Barbrey intoned. ‘Please come up on stage and introduce yourself.’

The peacekeepers went back to their spots and Theon immediately went to Wex, who was frozen near the steps.

‘Go,’ Theon whispered hurriedly. ‘Go to Robb.’

Wex vehemently shook his head, wrapping his small arms around Theon’s legs.

‘Wex, go to Robb.  _ Please _ .’

Wex kept shaking his head “no” and Theon was worried the peacekeepers were going to intervene until Robb stepped out of the boy's section and lifted Wex off him, small hands trying to grab him onto his clothes. Theon’s heart panged when Wex struggled in Robb’s arms, screaming for him.

Theon walked up the stone steps, seeing Jeyne covering her nose and mouth. He could hear her muffled crying.

'What's our volunteer’s name then?’ Barbrey asked, pointing her mic at him.

Somehow, he managed to have a steady voice. ‘Theon Greyjoy.’

‘A round of applause for our volunteer,’ Barbrey said.

No one clapped, not even the ones who kept betting on him — Theon had somewhat feared they would.

When Barbrey finished with King’s Landing spiel, Theon was instantly beside his sister and Jeyne clung to him, sobbing.

As they were escorted into what he dubbed as “Goodbye Rooms,” King’s Landing personnel tried to make Jeyne go to a separate room, but Mayor Stark intervened, saying they were legally siblings and how it would be a moot point to separate them when they were family.

Jeyne hadn’t stopped crying and he was doing his best to comfort her, rocking back and forth on the couch. The door opened and was closed by Robb. Theon suddenly had two crying children in his arms.

‘Seems like the odds weren’t in our favor, huh?’ Theon said, smiling without humor at his best friend.

Robb opened and closed his mouth like a fish, a pained expression on his face. He went closer, crouching at the height they were all at and engulfed them in a hug. The dam finally broke and Theon cried.

After a while, Theon and his siblings were reduced to sniffling. He probably ruined Robb’s best dress shirt with his snot and tears.

‘Robb... Robb, take care of Wex for me? Please?’

‘I will,’ Robb promised. ‘My parents will, too.’

‘Don’t let him see—’ Theon couldn’t finish his sentence.

‘I won’t. I won’t let him see. I’ll tell him to close his eyes.’

‘Cover his eyes,’ he insisted.

‘Yeah.’ Robb’s voice cracked.

Wex hugged Jeyne and then Theon one last time, eyes red and puffy. As they were about to leave, Theon stood up from the couch and hugged Robb.

Robb seemed surprised, then he fiercely returned the hug.

Theon’s voice was muffled as he spoke against Robb’s chest. ‘Thank you.’

‘Gods be good to you both, Theon and Jeyne,’ Robb whispered. ‘Survive as long as you can.’

‘Yeah... We’ll try.’

And then they were gone.

The next visits were brief with the clock ticking. Sansa and Arya had come right after. The eldest of the two hugged them both, not able to say anything properly with her blubbering while Arya tried to give advice.

'There's always some kind of poison around.’

A classmate of Theon’s unexpectedly visited. His name was Simon Linster and he came just to confess his feelings that Theon never knew about.

‘I just wanted you to know that I don't hate you, even if you could be an arsehole. I, um... I really like you. There's not going to be a better time to say it than now.’

Then Catelyn Stark with little Rickon on her hip. She was visibly trying to not seem awkward, mostly looking at Jeyne.

‘We’ll make sure Wex is alright.’

Lastly, Bran, who showed up in the last minute.

‘This is for good luck. My brother forgot to give it as a token. It might keep you both safe because he's supposed to show up as a big wolf,’ he said, giving him a wooden miniature figure of a direwolf and then quickly running off when a peacekeeper said “time’s up.”

* * *

In the train heading towards King’s Landing, Jeyne was distracted by everything shining and glittering with expensiveness. Everything inside the train seemed to be worth more than even the Goodbye Rooms, incomparable to the Stark’s relative wealth and the Greyjoy’s.

Barbrey didn't bother with niceties as she bluntly told them: ‘This will be most likely the last time the two of you will be seeing this. Winterfell tributes are always picked off first.’

Theon didn't think she was a typical King’s Landing citizen. She was too severe and her attire just below the outrageous ones he’d seen from the one time he had to go to King’s Landing (and now, the second time — probably the last).

When she walked off to another carriage, Jeyne wandered around and inspected everything her hands could touch from the corner of his eyes.

‘Can I eat this?’

Theon looked up from the direwolf that he had seen Robb carve a few days ago before the reaping to his sister, who was pointing at the array of muffins and a hand hovering over one.

‘Well, yeah. Why do you think they put it there?’

‘I don’t know. To make us suffer?’ Jeyne questioned rhetorically, snatching one.

The sound of an automatic door opening immediately drew their attention to Jory Cassel, the sole living victor of Winterfell.

‘I’d say it’s more incentive,’ Jory said. ‘To win.’

Jeyne scuttled back to his side, sitting on the chair beside him. They’d seen Jory enough times from when the man sometimes visited Mayor Stark at the same time he and his siblings would wait outside for Robb, so they weren’t strangers to him. Although this was far,  _ far  _ from the scenario Theon had imagined of them meeting him again.

‘Theon, you’re Ironborn. You must’ve gone to those special academies that the Iron Islands seem to have.’

‘...Briefly.’

‘Still better than nothing.’

* * *

Jeyne tugged on his costume, fearfully whispering, ‘Thee... He keeps staring at you.’

Theon glanced behind to see who Jeyne was pointing at. It was the boy from the Riverlands. He racked his brain to remember the boy’s name. A Mallister.

‘I’m dead,’ Theon stated faintly, to no one in particular.

‘No you’re not,’ Jory said, wincing when he noticed his “admirer.” The Greyjoys and Mallisters didn’t have a remarkably good history between each other. ‘Not yet.’

* * *

The timer went to zero and Theon immediately ran to the closest bag he could reach a millisecond after the cannon went off, narrowly avoiding being tackled to the ground. He ran to Jeyne, who had stood frozen on her platform, largely ignored by the seventeen or so people that had gone for the cornucopia. He grabbed her shoulder and dragged her away from the chaos. There were already people with weapons in their hands and fighting. Theon and Jeyne just kept on running, to the woods, far away from the cornucopia, from the bloodbath.

A cannon went off. Someone was already dead.

He didn’t know how long they ran for, but he tripped over a large root and Jeyne followed down as they laid on the forest floor, breathing heavily in the sudden silence. Jeyne helped him up and they sat for a moment, taking big, gulping breaths and looking at each other like they can’t believe they’re still somehow alive. Theon quickly checked the bag’s contents: a flask full of what he hoped was water, a sheathed dagger, first aid kit, and a nondescript pill bottle.

‘I think these are painkillers,’ Jeyne said, uncapping the pill bottle and sniffing it. ‘It doesn’t smell like anything that could kill you.’

‘Only one way to know for sure...’ Theon mumbled as he looked inside the full flask. It definitely didn’t look like water. ‘What is this?’

Theon smelled it and poured some on the cap to take a small sip. It was fucking tea. Not even hot, but cold tea.

‘Tea? This is as useful as essential oils.’

‘At least we’ll be sipping something with flavor,’ Jeyne said, taking a sip.

Theon scoffed. ‘Tastes bitter as shit.’

Another cannon sounded, startling them both.

‘...We better make camp.’

* * *

Robb bit his lip so hard, he broke the skin, tasting iron as he watched the games start. Rickon was the only one excited for it, being too young to understand and constantly fed with lies by the adults. He gripped the dining table white-knuckled as the camera panned to Theon, the first to sprint off the pedestal after the countdown (he was a fast runner). Someone was right behind the golden haired boy, ready to tackle. Robb could have wept in relief when Theon just managed to swipe the bag, quickly taking off with Jeyne.

The most worrisome contestant with a 12 scoring, Gregor Clegane, had made the first kill, strangling a girl that shared Jeyne’s name with his bare hands. Sansa whimpered audibly.

He was the tallest and brawniest and he had just killed off someone from his own district. Even the other careers avoided him. Robb hoped Theon would not cross paths with that monster.

  
  


Four people have already died on the first day and night since the games started.

Jeyne Westerling, Tansy Caswell, Dallin Farrest, and Celesse Pyke.

Theon nearly had a heart attack at the first name that was displayed and had quickly checked to see if Jeyne was still beside him, alive and breathing. He couldn't get back to sleep after that, staring unblinkingly at the starless skies. He jolted upright when there was a rustle of leaves from above and a telltale click.

A sponsor.

Theon moved Jeyne so that her head rested on the tree’s bark instead of his shoulder and looked for the small package sent to him or either Jeyne. He climbed halfway up the tree and reached for the metal box hanging from a branch with it's little parachute. Stretching his fingers a little more, he managed to get it and he was back on ground.

‘Theon?’ Jeyne whispered.

'I'm still here... I got a sponsor,’ Theon said as he tried to read the note attached to the box with the aid of the moonlight.

I'm sure you'll have much use for this, Little Theon, the note read.

Theon’s heart momentarily stopped, before carefully opening the box and took out a small flask with liquid dark as ink inside.

‘What is that?’ Jeyne asked curiously.

‘Nightshade,’ Theon answered.

‘Nightshade?’

'It's deadly poison.’ Found in the Iron Islands and only Euron Greyjoy knew how to make it. ‘Go back to sleep.’

‘I can’t,’ Jeyne replied, hiding her face in Theon’s shirt. ‘Thee? Can you sing about the Merchant’s daughter?’

‘My Jolly Sailor Bold?’ Jeyne nodded. ‘Why that, of all things?’

‘I like the story and how you sing it,’ Jeyne lowered her voice to a faint whisper, ‘I want to hear it one last time.’

Theon heard it all the same. Humming quietly, he started combing Jeyne’s hair.

Upon one summer’s morning, I carelessly did stray

Down by the Walls of Harlaw, where I met a sailor gay

Conversing with a young lass who seem’d to be in pain

Saying ‘Wyllam, when you go I fear you will ne’er be seen again’

His hair it does in ringlets hang, his eyes as black as sloes

May happiness attend him wherever he may go

From Tower Wyk to Blacktyde, I will wander, weep and moan

All for my jolly sailor bold, until he does return

My father is a merchant, the truth I will now tell

And in King’s Landing City in opulence doth dwell

His fortune doth exceed three hundred thousand pounds of gold

And he frowns upon his daughter ‘cause she loves a sailor bold

Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be

Who love a jolly sailor bold that ploughs the raging sea

While up aloft, in storm or gale, from me his absence mourn

And firmly pray, arrive the day, he home will safe return

My name it is Mariya, a merchant’s daughter fair

And I have left my parents and three thousand pounds a year

My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold

There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold

She was fast asleep now and Theon mentally hummed, eyeing their surroundings.

* * *

‘Theon Greyjoy is just full of surprises,’ Varys commented as the gamemakers showed live footage of Theon singing to his sister. ‘Not exactly what I’d call a good bedtime story, but his voice more than makes up for it.’

Robb listened carefully and glanced down to see that Wex was falling asleep to Theon’s voice. However, his whole family was still awake.

‘I didn't know Theon could sing,’ Sansa said softly.

Neither did he.

* * *

Yara watched silently while her father sneered in disdain and muttered something about why King’s Landing was showing this instead of the ones that were actually killing other tributes. She ignored him.

It switched to Ramsay Bolton, the tribute from the Upper North, still fully awake and was setting up a bear trap after her little brother seemed finished with the song that all Ironborn knew.

Theon truly was similar to mother, she thought mournfully.

* * *

‘THEE!’

Theon’s heart stopped.

‘HELP ME!’

He left Ramsay, not bothering to hear the rest of what the raven-haired boy was saying and limped as fast as he could towards Jeyne’s frightened screams. In a clearing, just a further aways from their camp, he saw Jeyne struggling with Gregor, who had his huge hands wrapped around her throat. He quickly shot an arrow at Gregor’s back but, for some reason, it didn’t pierce and Jeyne was still being choked. Without thinking, Theon charged with an arrow as if it was a knife and jumped on Gregor’s back, trying to stab it into the thick neck, to an artery.

Jeyne was released, coughing violently, with Gregor now busy in trying to throw Theon off his back.

‘Run—’

He was thrown off and now he was the one being choked, pressed down against the earth. His short, stubby nails scratched futilely against Gregor’s hands. Gregor roared in pain and Theon could breathe again.

‘Just fucking die you little bitch!’ Gregor yelled. There was a dagger sticking out of his calf.

‘No!’ Theon watched in shock as his little sister’s head was smashed against a rock by Gregor.

Theon wasn't aware of what was happening, the hulking form of Gregor quickly disappearing as he was carried away from the scene. Gregor did not give chase, instead paying attention to Patrek Mallister who had crashed through the clearing near the bloodied Clegane and his stomach dropped.

Theon was suddenly placed back on his feet, Ramsay's irritated face appearing in front of him and calloused hands cupping his face.

‘Run with me. I can't carry you all the way.’

Theon just nodded, holding on tightly to Ramsay's hand as they ran to the river and forgetting the pain exerted on his left leg. When they managed to cross it, someone came running at them, shouting a war cry.

‘Oh, fuck off!’ Ramsay let go of Theon’s hand and easily disarmed the Dorne boy. ‘Shoot him!’

Theon did, mind still distant and his actions on autopilot. Ramsay took the boy’s bag and grabbed Theon’s wrist as they ran again.

‘We’ll make camp here,’ Ramsay said as he led Theon inside a cave.

Theon slid down to the ground. Ramsay set down his bags, then came over to him. He gripped his face hard, forcing Theon to look into icy blue eyes.

'Don't go fading out on me. Don't make me regret saving you.’

‘Why... Why did you save me?’

Ramsay didn't answer, his face carefully blank, but cuffed Theon’s left trouser leg up to his thigh as he inspected the wound caused by the bear trap. Theon nearly passed out at the sight.

‘Oh god,’ Theon whimpered.

‘Calm down. You’ll live.’

Theon peered through his sweaty fringes. He didn't really like the look of appraisal on Ramsay's face.

'Miraculously, it didn't bite too deep.’ Ramsay sounded disappointed and Theon winced when his ankle was lifted up.

Ramsay took out a gauze from a medical kit and pressed down hard on the wound. After a moment, the bleeding seemed to have stopped and Ramsay wrapped another, cleaner gauze around the wound.

Theon frantically grabbed onto Ramsay's broad shoulders quickly as he was carried to the middle of the cave and sat near the bags.

‘Stay here,’ Ramsay ordered. ‘I’ll get some wood to start a fire.’

Ramsay was only gone for about five minutes before he came back with his haul and Theon was internally relieved at his arrival, having imagined multiple scenarios of the raven-haired boy abandoning him, leaving him to die (although half his stuff was with Theon). Ramsay made a campfire and Theon watched in silence. Ramsay took off his waterproof jacket and made Theon take off his too, placing them together on the ground. Theon felt a bit embarrassed, but relented in laying his head on Ramsay's arm. He pressed a bit closer for warmth. He flinched from the sound of a cannon announcing the fourth death today.

It was merely the second day. He didn't want to see who died.

‘Another 4 dead. Only 10 left.’

10 left? God, that number felt a lot and yet not at the same time.

‘Do you think we'll have a chance of winning?’ Theon asked quietly.

Ramsay didn’t respond for a while but turned his gaze to Theon.

‘I wouldn't be really opposed to dying here,’ Theon continued, feeling compelled to suddenly talk about his feelings. ‘I don’t think I can go on.’

Ramsay scoffed. ‘Stop being a drama queen. You only die when I let you.’

It must be sad for Theon that he found that reassuring. ‘You sound awfully sure of yourself — as if I’ll live through this.’

‘You will because I said so.’

Theon choked back a sob, unaware that he was crying, and the cave was back to quiet as he buried his face in Ramsay’s shirt.

* * *

Theon woke up shivering, even when he was practically cocooned in Ramsay's arms. Searching for something, he patted down his sides, the vacant spot beside him and over Ramsay. He stopped, realising what he was doing and sat back numbly then laid back down on Ramsay’s arm.

'It's cold,’ Theon mumbled, after a moment of registering that Jeyne was not here.

_ She’s dead, Theon _ , his mind said.

Ramsay shifted. He’d most likely been woken up by Theon’s franticness. ‘Hmm... The fire can't go on forever. It’ll catch the attention of anyone outside.’

‘I know,’ Theon said with a sigh.

‘I know a good way to keep warm.’ Ramsay sat up and was suddenly above him.

‘Are... Are you propositioning me?’ Theon stammered, understanding dawning on him when Ramsay caressed his cheek.

‘Yes. Obviously.’

There was a pause. With the always bright “moonlight” outside and the fire embers emitting some light beside them, Theon could swear those blue eyes seemed to be glowing as they stared down at him intensely. Theon supposed if he was going to die in this damn games, why not lose his virginity? Ramsay was by no means ugly — just a tad crazy with a way too intense face.

‘If we put enough of a show, we’ll get more sponsors,’ Ramsay added wickedly, already sliding Theon’s trousers and pants down his hips. ‘If they're currently watching us, of course. Though it's a likely chance that they are.’

Well, that slightly ruined the mood. Theon remembered they were being broadcasted live.

‘Is... Is this even allowed?’

‘They don’t have any rules against it, do they? I don’t hear the gamemakers protesting right now either.’

Drowned God, they were actually going to do this. ‘I’ve never... actually... with anyone,’ Theon informed, a bit scared.

Ramsay paused before he grinned. 'I'm your first then? Good.’

Ramsay moved Theon’s arm away from his face, making Theon feel more exposed. He was warm in the face when Ramsay unexpectedly kissed him.

'Don't worry, puppy. I’ll take good care of you.’ Ramsay spread Theon’s thighs so he could situate himself between them.

Unbeknownst to them, everyone and their damn mother had a clear view of what exactly they were doing from the lens of a little bird that slipped inside the cave.

Varys and Petyr were only thrilled to comment about the scene.

* * *

‘What an unexpected development folks!’ Petyr said, ‘Are they actually—’

‘Well now... I’m sure there are kids watching! Parental discretion is advised,’ Varys said, as if they were watching a movie.

Robb gritted his teeth at the radio while he forced himself to watch the live broadcast.

His youngest siblings and Wex (after a moment of trying to calm down the hysterical child) were, thankfully, already sent to bed early.

Robb had been watching the brief, but painful struggle between Gregor, Theon and Jeyne. He’d hoped both would survive, but it was practically impossible in that situation. Now, he was upset beyond belief for a different reason.

Theon’s noises of pleasure were quiet, but loud enough in the sudden silence that seemed to have enveloped Winterfell after Jeyne’s death. His parents didn't seem to know what to do because this wasn’t certainly any worse than all the things they’ve seen (at least it wasn’t a rape), so they said nothing and remained grim. Sansa was still mourning Jeyne Poole and Robb tried to ignore what was happening on the screen, pretending it wasn't Theon who was making those sounds he’d always secretly wanted to hear ( _ but not this way _ ).

‘Oh god— Ah!’

‘Shh. Remember where we are.’

‘U-Un...’

The scene abruptly switched to Gregor Clegane, who was making his move against another career who was sleeping (did Patrek Mallister survive?). For someone his size, he was terrifyingly quiet.

‘Alas! I’m sure some were disappointed at the sudden change of scenery, but it seems President Lannister has deemed it too explicit — even with the darkness and minimal nudity shown,’ Petyr explained. Robb swore his teeth were about to break with how hard he was grinding them. ‘And before any of you send them gifts to the arena with notes, please do remember that King’s Landing reviews those gifts and they’ll know who sent it.’

* * *

Theon gasped into Ramsay’s mouth, wrapping his legs around Ramsay’s waist and holding on to the boy’s clothed back as Ramsay fucked into him faster, thick cock hitting his bundle of nerves. Ramsay detached his mouth from Theon’s, biting his bottom lip. His moan turned into a noise of alarm when hands wrapped around his throat.

‘Rams—’

(Rough sex.)

* * *

Theon abruptly tripped on something and he heard a groan. He drew his bow, pointing it everywhere, to the trees and behind him, trying to see where the noise had come from, until he noticed that the ground in front of him was raised weirdly.

Another pained groan and Theon warily crawled over to the lump, before his throat closed up.

‘Patrek?’ He managed to say.

One blue eye opened. ‘H-Hey... there, The’n.’

‘W-Who...?’ Theon finally noticed the puddle of blood. The boy was still bleeding. Drowned God, how long had he been like this?

Patrek barked out a raspy laugh, closing an eye. ‘Y’know... I thought I almost got away from that fuc’ing giant— But then... then he threw a goddamn sword at me.’

Theon vaguely remembered Patrek appearing right after he had screamed and Ramsay had picked him up.

‘A  _ sword _ ?’ Theon asked, voice shrill.

‘That... crazy strong fucker...’

‘Where...’ Theon faltered a bit, swallowing his bile.

‘Hn... managed to get it out,’ Patrek said with a crooked grin. ‘Probably a bad... choice. At least I don’t look as ghastly if I had a sword sticking out of my back.’

‘Can you still move?’

‘Probably... or probably not.’

Theon looked at the river, a mere feet away and then to Patrek who was laying in a pool of his own blood, still breathing and talking. Making his decision, Theon moved Patrek upright and in result, he could see his back.

‘H-How are you still—’ Theon exhaled, trying to stay calm.

‘It didn’t hit anything vital... Maybe... was able to take it out easily, I think that tells something. Dunno much, was pretty shocking,’ Patrek answered. He grunted with effort as he stood with his help.

‘The river is just close by,’ Theon said.

Patrek snorted at that.

Reaching the river, Patrek let himself collapse on the water and Theon was practically using all his strength to keep him upright. He washed the paint, grime and blood away as best as he could with Patrek leaning all his heavy weight on him, resting his head on Theon’s shoulder. Theon then ran his hands all over Patrek’s face and damp dark blond hair, washing him as he would to a child. He lifted Patrek’s shirt up, planning on using it to wrap around the very severe-looking stab wound.

‘Undressing me already, Greyjoy? Without a date first?’

‘Shut up. If you can still talk, then lift up your arms.’

Patrek chuckled, but did as told. Theon lifted his shirt all the way and saw that the Riverlands boy’s chest was still unscathed. He pressed his ear against where the heart would be located and grabbed Patrek’s wrist, turning it so he could find his pulse point.

‘Don’t stop breathing, you idiot,’ Theon scolded when he no longer felt the rise and fall.

‘Sorry,’ Patrek said, his chest rumbling, sounding as if he was embarrassed.

Theon was feeling more calm, confident Patrek would live as he finished listening.

‘Lay your head on my lap and stretch out your legs,’ Theon ordered as he furiously scrubbed Patrek’s shirt with the cool river water.

Theon was wringing the shirt, to dry it faster, when he felt Patrek lay his head. Making Patrek lay on his side so he could see the sword wound, he carefully washed away more of the blood and wiped the crusted blood while Patrek was wincing and cringing. Now that it was clean, Theon could see that the wound was not as severe as he had thought, all things considered. It looked more like a very long cut, a slash instead of the piercing through the heart he had feared.

‘Did you  _ lie _ to me?’ Theon asked in disbelief. ‘It doesn’t look like a wound that someone would get from a sword  _ thrown _ at them.’

‘I honestly didn’t think you’d believe it. I would be certainly dead if that were the actual case.’

‘You — I can’t fucking believe you!’ Theon soaked Patrek’s shirt with the water and slapped him with it.

Patrek only laughed, as if it was a funny matter.

‘Well, it worked. You took pity on me, thinking I was already on death’s door and helped me,’ Patrek said. ‘Y’know, you’re actually pretty gullible.’

Theon scowled, smacking him again. ‘God drown me, I’ll leave you on death’s door right now!’

‘Well, there’s certainly worse things to look at, before I die.’

Theon let out a strange noise, staring wide-eyed at Patrek, who unabashedly looked right back at him.

_ Don’t. Don’t say that. _

Theon’s spine went ramrod straight when a loud cannon sound went off. He suddenly remembered with startling clarity where exactly they were. There was the sound of running coming closer. Theon felt like he was away from his body and Patrek was trying to stand when the girl running towards them like a madman abruptly fell, an arrow on her back.

Ramsay lowered his bow when he saw Theon.

‘Theon! Why the fuck are you outside—’ Ramsay stopped in his tracks, noticing Patrek, his eyes darkening.

‘You two are allies?’ Patrek questioned, oddly calm.

‘W-Wait— Before we start killing each other, let’s form a team? It’s barely the third day.’  _ Maybe. Time was part of the illusion here. _

Patrek sat up and Theon tensed, a hand near his own bow, unsure of what to do or what anyone would do.

‘A team? Sure,’ Patrek agreed easily, splashing water on his face.

Theon looked up at Ramsay, who had a thoughtful frown.

‘Fine,’ Ramsay finally said.

* * *

‘And an alliance has formed!’ Petyr proclaimed with surprise as they reviewed footage with a live audience. ‘Well, folks, it seems there’s some love triangle happening here! What a very interesting turn of events! What does the crowd have to say about this?’

A chorus of answers went up.

‘Very 50/50! I hear both names equally. Ramsay Bolton or Patrek Mallister— What was that?’ Petyr widened his eyes in astonishment. ‘Well now!  _ BOTH _ , you say? Might you repeat that, darling?’

The camera switched to the large audience, a young woman standing up from her seat as a drone provided her with a microphone.

‘Petyr, Varys, I say both! Ramsay Bolton AND Patrek Mallister! They both have quite the chemistry with Theon!’ The majority of the audience roared along with her or tittered at the thought.

‘Well now, chemistry you say? Are you certain it isn’t anything else?’

‘Maybe... Can’t say exactly what I’m thinking in live television though!’

Everyone laughed at that.

After everyone calmed down, Varys finally spoke. ‘Now, I’m going to complicate things a bit more — I’d say it’s not only a love triangle, but a square!’

‘Why do you say that?’ Petyr asked in interest. ‘Is there another tribute we’re missing?’

‘Oh, that’s the thing. He’s not a tribute! Remember the day of the reaping?’

On cue, the walls behind them played the exact moment Theon volunteered for his mute little brother, wide-eyed and shocked, trying to cling to Theon and not letting him take another step as Theon repeated “go to Robb” to the child. An auburn-haired boy, presumably the said Robb, stepped out from his section and lifted Wex away from Theon. The footage stopped at the part where Jeyne burst into tears and Theon hugged her, saying something inaudible.

  
  


'Don't waste too much of our gauze on him,’ Ramsay warned at the moment that Theon unwrapped the gauze bandage around Mallister’s torso, planning on treating his wound and replacing the gauze.

‘I’m sure you have plenty of sponsors to provide that for you, Bolton,’ Mallister drily remarked.

Ramsay clicked his tongue, not disagreeing and displeased at seeing Mallister being essentially pampered by the Ironborn, who was liberally applying ointment on the boy’s laceration. He was already regretting his decision on allowing Mallister to be included in the alliance.

He hated having Theon’s attention be elsewhere other than him.

* * *

‘Theon, please. We need to leave him behind. We need to win together,’ Patrek said desperately, cupping Theon’s crying face.

‘B-But! Ramsay — I can... I can save him,’ Theon sobbed, voice cracking. ‘I saw my friend’s mum treat someone who got poisoned before. I just need some wood and a fire and then—’

‘He's already dead, Theon.  _ Please _ , let's just go,’ Patrek pleaded, attempting to separate Theon from Bolton’s unresponsive body. ‘It’s too late to save him. We can’t start a fire now.’

Theon looked at Bolton and then to Patrek, making those sounds of someone trying to suppress their crying, muffling it by covering his nose and mouth. Eventually, he accepted his hand and let Patrek haul him to his feet.

His relief was indescribable, feeling the high of being chosen. He drew Theon into a tight hug. A cannon went off and the Ironborn in his arms cried harder. He frantically ran a hand through Theon’s sweaty golden curls and used his thumb to wipe away the tears. Seeing him cry was agony.

Theon’s sobbing was drowned out by the sound of a hovercraft nearing their spot.

'We need to go! Now!’ Gregor might come for them at the sound of a hovercraft.

Theon took one last look at Bolton, choked back another sob and nodded once, wiping his eyes with his jacket sleeve. Patrek practically dragged him along with him to the cornucopia.

They’ll win together, Patrek thought, tightening his grip when he felt Theon curl his fingers around his hand.

They’ll live.

* * *

Another cannon sound, startling Theon badly. It was already night, but there were no images of the dead tributes being shown, so he didn’t know how many were left exactly. He didn’t count the shots. He didn’t bother to keep track of it, after Ramsay.

‘They want a show. Suspense,’ Patrek said knowingly.

Theon whimpered. ‘W-What if Gregor comes?’ That giant of a boy would most likely kill them both and claim victory for himself.

Patrek squeezed his hand tighter. Encouraging. 'You're a good shot. You’ll get him before he comes close enough.’

Theon immediately perked his ears when he heard a strange noise in the distance. It sounded like barks.

‘Do you hear that?’ Theon glanced at Patrek, wondering if he heard the same thing, but the Riverlands boy was still staring at him. ‘Patrek?’

‘I like you a lot, Theon,’ Patrek suddenly began. ‘I know you somehow loved Bolton, but I’ll make you love me, too. We’ll be victors together. If... If we can, maybe we can ask to live together? I don’t really care if it's in Winterfell, Iron Islands or the Riverlands. I just want to be together.’

'That's...’ Theon faltered, surprised at his forwardness. ‘You're... You don't beat around the bush, do you?’

Patrek’s lips quirked up. ‘Can't waste my time skirting around the edges when we’ve been sent to a literal death pit.’

A silent pause.

‘Okay,’ Theon whispered quietly.

Patrek inhaled loudly, before hugging Theon.

* * *

‘Patrek!’ Theon cried out in fear.

'Don't worry about me! I got these mutts! Focus on Gregor!’

He would kill Gregor with one arrow in between his eyes and then help Patrek. There were little things in life he could be proud of, but he was a  _ damn good fucking shot _ — even Balon was forced to acknowledge that. Theon breathed deeply, focusing, his fingers straining at how far back he was stretching it and let loose an arrow.

It hit its mark. Dead-on. Gregor came falling down like a log, no longer bounding towards the horn. Theon couldn’t pretend to feel remorseful of this particular kill.

Whirling around to the struggle behind, he then shot the mutts that were trying to snap their jaws on Patrek’s leg in quick succession. Patrek managed to behead one of the mutts with his sword one-handed and the last one fell to both his arrow and Patrek’s swing. Theon quickly grabbed hold of Patrek’s hand, pulling him back up to the top of the cornucopia, almost twisting his ankle in the process. They lay there, panting and clinging to each other in disbelief.

A cannon went off, a beat after Gregor fell.

Then the sound of victory music blared all around them and excited screams came from the skies from probably the live King’s Landing audience.

Theon cried and he felt a wetness on his shoulder from where Patrek was leaning his head on it. He heard the  _ whoop-whoop-whoop _ of a hovercraft and helped Patrek up, staring at the bright lights above them. Instead of a claw that Theon half-suspected, a ladder was lowered down to them.

* * *

Theon woke up, immediately trying to find Patrek. He was on some kind of hospital bed and Patrek was nearby on another bed. Theon breathed a sigh of relief, heart racing when he quickly reached his side, holding the other boy's wrist to feel his pulse. He looked at the rise and fall of Patrek’s chest, listening and trying to follow so that he himself would stop breathing fast.

He shortly woke up again, feeling a hand threading through his hair.

‘Hey.’

Theon could've wept again. When he spoke, his voice croaked slightly. ‘Hi.’

Everything was a bit of a blur after that, Theon’s wounds (especially the bear trap one) were all somehow gone as if he’d never been injured at all. Patrek also revealed to him his back, the laceration no longer there. Even when Theon ran his hands to where he knew the scar  _ should _ be, he didn't feel anything different and Patrek wasn't feeling any hurt either. It was perfectly unblemished skin.

It was quite terrifying to Theon— how King’s Landing could be capable of that.

* * *

‘You’ve done well, Theon.’

Theon was brought out of his trance by a hand patting his shoulder, looking up at Jory. Frowning, Theon didn’t know what he’d done that could be considered “well.”

‘The whole of King’s Landing loves you,’ Jory said. ‘Except the President.’

‘President Lannister?’ Theon repeated faintly. ‘What... What did I do?’

‘There was only supposed to be one victor.’

‘But they changed it to two victors!’

‘That they did, but only because the people of King’s Landing wanted it and clamored for it enough. It was like a soap opera for them. They wanted either Bolton or Mallister to win with you,’ Jory explained.

**_That's_ ** _ what they cared enough to protest about? _

‘Is that why you sent me that? “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it?”’

Jory nodded.

‘You’ll be interviewed again by Petyr along with Mallister. I’m sure you’ll both charm the crowd once again and President Lannister will be appeased.’

‘What’s there to appease him about..? There’s still two victors.’

‘I’ll be honest with you, Theon. The President most likely fears another rebellion,’ Jory said grimly.

Theon stared at the man in aghast.  _ What? _

‘Your actions have... incidentally caused some riots.’

‘What — What did I do? I didn’t—’

‘Your singing.’

* * *

‘Hey, hey, shh... You're fine. It's okay.’

Theon whimpered, hiding his face in Patrek’s shirt. Strong arms wrapped around him as Theon wanted to disappear as they got ever closer to Patrek’s home, the Riverlands. He listened to Patrek’s heartbeat and the  _ whooshing _ sounds of the King’s Landing train passing through tunnels. Tentatively, Theon wound his arms around Patrek’s back, before remembering the boy no longer had the scar.

‘They’ll hate me,’ Theon mumbled. 'They'll wonder why I won. Me, Balon Greyjoy’s son.’

‘You had no part in your father's rebellion. Or I would’ve seen you during it,’ Patrek said firmly, holding him closer. 'It’s obvious you're not him. Anyone could see that. King’s Landing, on the other hand... they’re the ones who willingly let kids fight to the death just because of shit that happened centuries ago.’

Theon peered up at him with wide eyes. ‘You shouldn't say that,’ he urged in a softer voice, ‘be careful what you say.’

Patrek scoffed. ‘What? Do you think they'll hear us now?’

Theon didn't answer, instead he buried his face in his shirt again and wrote “yes” on Patrek's back.

“Couch.” He paused, feeling Patrek stiffen. “Water glass.”

“Ramsay taught him” was what he wanted to write, but refrained from doing so.

‘Either way,’ Patrek spoke up again. ‘You volunteered for your surrogate little brother, to  _ save _ him — not for glory, and you did the best you could do in that arena with kids fighting each other just to live. Nobody couldn't guarantee a painless death in that situation. Not especially with the gamemakers.’

What Patrek was saying was true, but he still felt shit. He should've been with Jeyne. He should've not left her there and just insisted on carrying her piggyback. He wanted a swift, painless death for her... He had wanted her to win.

‘I heard you sing to that dying little boy from the Crannog, staying by his side and telling him stories with your songs.’

‘You were there?’

‘I was walking, looking for water, and I hid when I heard a voice and then I saw it was you,’ Patrek recalled in a far-away voice. ‘You can sing.’

‘Yes, I can sing.’ Fat lot of good that did though.

‘I mean, you have a nice voice.’

Theon didn’t answer for a moment. ‘Thanks.’

They fell into a comfortable silence. Theon shifted a bit, raising his head from under the arm on him to look at Patrek, who had closed his eyes and was resting his head on the couch. He had dark circles.

‘Patrek..?’

‘Hmm?’

‘I don’t want you to go.’

Patrek pressed his lips on the top of his head. ‘I’m sure we’ll figure something out.’

* * *

Patrek took Theon’s hand as the train was coming to a stop at the Riverlands station. He was glad to be back, but mostly he really didn’t want to see any of the Freys.

There was a flash of a single camera from a dozen even though they hadn’t stepped out yet.

‘Ready?’

Theon looked up at him with tired aqua eyes, smiling meekly. ‘Sure.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ he reassured, kissing the Ironborn’s forehead. ‘The people in the Riverlands are not like King’s Landing...’

* * *

‘We return to Winterfell,’ Jory said.

Theon looked back at Patrek and then to the train station.

‘I’m going back?’

‘Yes. We need to go back.’

He didn't want to let go of Patrek’s hand though.

‘I’ll go to Winterfell too,’ Patrek quietly stated.

* * *

‘I’m not sure—’

‘Who’s that? The person sitting over there,’ Theon interrupted, unable to keep his eyes from constantly wandering over to a familiar dark-haired figure at the corner of the cafeteria. He was sitting with others, even chatting, but he still seemed like he was on his own.

Something about him was too familiar. A recognition that he couldn’t really place where from.

‘Dunno. Must be one of the refugees,’ Robb answered disinterestedly.

‘Wait here a moment...’

‘Theon?’

Standing up, he walked over to the male. Theon’s heart nearly went to his throat as he came closer and heard an even familiar voice. He must be hallucinating. He’s had hallucinations for a while now and that there was no possible way—

‘Ramsay?’

At saying the name, the male automatically turned without much thought.

Theon nearly fell to his knees in shock.

‘Ah, I was wondering when you’d come here.’ Ramsay grinned, icy blues lighting up. ‘Hi there, puppy—’

Theon practically jumped him, wrapping his arms around Ramsay’s neck.

‘Theon?’ He heard Robb’s voice, but he completely focused his attention on Ramsay, who was somehow alive.

He was  _ alive _ .

‘H-How? How? I thought you... you died! T-The claw! Poison!’

(Elaborate plot on how it was planned the whole time and it was acting.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Theon sang is Jolly Sailor Bold from Pirates of the Caribbean but modified.


	14. Out of Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sort of Time Travel AU? Or is it Dimension Travel AU?
> 
> Ramsay is in a different world that is so much like his previous one, but it's medieval (and fantasy, but he doesn't know that yet). Modern AU Ramsay gets put into somewhat canon GoT world.

“I don't know what happened exactly, but it's a good change. Wouldn't you agree, Maester? My bastard is finally like a nobleman instead of some wildling child,” mused Roose and raised an eyebrow at the Dreadfort’s resident Maester. “Something to say, Maester?”

“It's just quite... unnerving, my lord,” Tybald responded. “No one’s personality can change that drastically overnight.”

Roose looked on as his bastard son decided at that moment to shoot an arrow into the instructor’s knee.

He sighed as a pained shout resounded throughout the courtyard. “Not as much as I had hoped for.”

* * *

Curiosity got the better of him and Ramsay had snuck out of the Dreadfort to travel to where he could recall Winterfell was. His mount he decided to name after his sports car was only a pony, but he was sure he could make it. Probably. He didn't know much about horses, but they could be trained and fed like his dogs.

This was a bad idea, most likely, but Ramsay couldn't resist the temptation of seeing his pet (not his right now but later). He wasn't even sure if Theon was actually going to be there. He didn't even know what the date was.

It was risky, yet Ramsay continued on. It was still daylight, he could make it — plus the dirt paths were familiar enough. He could recognise certain landmarks and imagine the cement road with the buildings. He was riding through Weeping Waters and then to the direction he would usually drive to Winterfell.

Hmm... He could recognize the people he knew, the only difference was their attire. His father and the doctor (‘maester’ now, he supposed) were examples. Regardless how the people presented themselves, they were in personality the same.

He briefly entertained the thought of visiting his mother, but then that would take more of his time so he pressed on. He did meet some familiar faces as he passed down the dirt road and they had the same reaction as when he had gone to Weeping Waters for a festival back in his world.

The same wary looks and fear. A small relief that he was not entirely thrust into some crazy shit like dragons or something of the like. Just a different setting and the old traditions being new.

* * *

Most of Winterfell was asleep when he arrived. Ramsay got off his horse and walked on the muddy ground. Predictably, there was a tavern still open.

“Oy, what’re you doing at this time boy?” One of the men drinking some unidentifiable liquor in a table to his right suddenly asked.

“Looking for someone.”

“Ah, I know this!” Another man exclaimed. “You are looking for who your father could be. Might be this guy.” He promptly slapped the broad back of a person who didn't look remotely like he could be related to Ramsay.

They were very drunk and Ramsay couldn't be bothered with them or whatever delusion the brown haired one had. His buddy didn’t seem all that happy from his precarious hold of his drink spilling from the amicable pat.

Ramsay went to the person who looked to be running things and got himself a nice stay at one of the rooms. Some bribery had to be done. All in a day’s work.

* * *

It really didn't take long to find Theon because all he had to do was listen to the Northmen complain about the young Ironborn. Seemed like his pet was quite popular.

If the hate was subtle in his world, this North’s hatred of the Ironborn was obvious and poorly hidden.

Theon was slinging arrows at a tree that had a carved target. He was somewhat deep in the woods on his own and Ramsay wasn’t surprised. If there were less trees, some cardboard cutouts of animals and the Archery Center of Winterfell being way over a bit in a particular patch of dewy grass that he had long passed by, he knew exactly where Theon would be.

And he was right.

“Have you ever hunted with that bow?”

The boy with golden brown hair who was standing in a small forest clearing startled, his arrow missing its target as wide aqua eyes met his.

“Who are you?” Theon asked with a frown. “How did you find me? Did you come here to bring me back?”

Ramsay raised his hands. “Woah there. Slow down. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m Ramsay. SO, have you ever hunted with that bow?”

“...No. Don’t bother me.” Theon turned his back to him with a dismissive eye roll that had Ramsay’s uncomfortable smile faltering from the offence.

It was a clear sign for him to fuck off, but Ramsay couldn’t care less. He stayed and watched, leaning against a nearby tree that wasn’t in the Ironborn’s line of sight. Theon was trying to ignore his presence although he was utterly failing as he kept glancing at him quickly whenever he made his shot.

It was as if he was making sure he was watching. Ramsay made a sound of amusement.

Theon turned to give him a glare. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have some...” He paused as he considered his clothing. “—peasant duties?”

He was annoying, Ramsay thought in distaste. He wanted him to be meeker, closer to  _ his  _ Theon. He was Eddard Stark’s prisoner apparently and he had been brought to Winterfell as a hostage where he would be easily killed if the occasion arose, but the young Theon in front of him didn’t seem to be having a problem with it. Still acting so pompous.

But then, it wasn’t like Ramsay knew a lot about this world.

Anyways... “You just call me a peasant? What are you, a lord?”

“I am! You don’t know who I am?”

“Not a lord,” Ramsay said blandly.

Theon stomped his feet.  _ Adorable _ . “I’m Theon Greyjoy.”

“Ah, the kid who everyone hates,” Ramsay said, nodding his head sagely.

“Kid?” Theon looked momentarily confused before it turned into an unhappy expression.

Ramsay looked at him properly and noticed his eyes were a bit red and nose pink. “I was expecting more from the Ironborn that the Starks had taken hostage. But you’re not much to look at.”

“Fuck off.”

“You’re not a real lord either, are you stupid? You’re just a young k- child.”

Theon glared at him, but it was more of anger than hate. “You can not be speaking to me like this. You don’t know anything.”

“Oh? Do I?” Ramsay snorted.

“Yes! You’re just a—”

“Why have you stopped?”

“What?” Theon blinked at him in bewilderment.

“Your archery skills you were showing me.”

“I-I was not showing you anything! You suddenly appeared out of nowhere!”

“You did not tell me to leave,” Ramsay pointed out. “It didn’t help that you constantly looked over to where I was. One last arrow — if you manage to hit your carved target from here, I’ll be impressed.”

“I’m merely practicing.” The boy’s anger was forgotten but he still huffed at him in annoyance.

“I’ll be impressed nonetheless,” Ramsay said.

Theon took it as a challenge, stomping towards where Ramsay indicated. However, he hesitated as Theon looked at the target then to Ramsay. “You're going to sabotage me,” he claimed.

“I won't.”

“You're... You're standing too close.”

“I'm not.” Ramsay walked up to him until he was invading the Ironborn’s personal space, able to see Theon’s expressions fully and his eyes. “ _ This _ is standing too close,” Ramsay informed slowly.

Interestingly, Theon didn't get angry when his face turned to a shade of red and he instead backed away.

“Are you not going to start?”

“G-Go back to your spot first.”

Theon managed to hit the target.

“Ahh, well done.”

“See?”

Ramsay smiled. “Well, Theon. It was nice to meet you but I have to get going now. Good show.”

“Wait— Where are you going to?” Theon took a few steps towards his previous spot as Ramsay looked at the sky.

“It's getting dark, don't you know the forest will be filled with monsters by then? The Iron Islands do not have the same danger as all your forests have been cut down and this is Winterfell.”

“Monsters?! You're lying!”

As if on cue, there was the cracking sound of a twig being broken behind Theon. It made the boy jump and he was suddenly by Ramsay's side.

“Hey, where... I’ll follow you,” Theon said nervously.

“You haven't been here long, have you? I was surprised someone was here deep in the woods doing archery.”

“I’ve only lived here for four moons! Of course I don't know!”

Four moons? Ramsay tried to remember what that meant. Most likely ‘days.’

* * *

“Hey.”

Theon jumped in alarm, whirling around with his fancy fur cloak that was most likely warmer than his clothes combined and Ramsay waved his hand.

“Ramsay?” Theon said in surprise.

“This is your room, huh?” Ramsay let himself in through the open arch that was the window. “You're living lavishly for a prisoner.”

* * *

“Hey there.”

Theon didn't jump but he did gasp audibly in the loud hall.

“Ramsay!? How are you here?”

Ramsay sat down next to Theon with a small grin.

“I came here with my lord father,” Ramsay stated as if it was obvious. “We were invited.”

“Lord father!? Invited?” Theon repeated with a choked sound.

“Hmm. The food here is good,” Ramsay said as he looked around. The plate presentation was rather extravagant. “Feed me some of those.”

“Y-You— I always thought—”

Ramsay's grin widened. “Well, you are rather stupid.”


End file.
